A Nightingale's Song
by skyflower51
Summary: 'We were torn apart, but she fought on, for my sake, in my name. And now I am waiting for her. I will wait for as long as it takes.' Treachery and death parted them, but their love never died. This is the tale of a love that conquered all- pain, hatred, rage, betrayal, and death. Karliah has told her story. Now is the time for Gallus, scholar, thief, and Nightingale, to tell his.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone!**

**Those of you who've read **_**Indigo Nightingale **_**will know that the Thieves Guild is by far my favourite questline in Skyrim. I adored every minute of it- the plot, the mysteries, and in particular the amazing characters. But there were two characters in particular who intrigued me more than any others, and whose story made me wish that I knew more about them. Those two characters were Gallus and Karliah.**

**Their story not only broke my heart, it made me determined to understand. I just had to know how they came to fall in love, and why exactly Gallus had to die, and a thousand other things too. And since nobody else was going to answer those questions, I made up my mind to do it myself. Though this story is an accompaniment to my other story, **_**Indigo Nightingale, **_**it's by no means necessary to have read that one before reading this.**

**I do not own Skyrim, nor do I own Gallus and Karliah. But they own each other, and I own the story.**

'**We were torn apart, but she fought on, for my sake, in my name. And now I am waiting for her. I will wait for as long as it takes.' Treachery and death parted them, but their love never died. This is the tale of a love that conquered all- pain, hated, rage, betrayal, and even death itself. Karliah has told her story. Now is the time for Gallus to tell his.**

**I hope you like it!**

**-Sky**

* * *

A NIGHTINGALE'S SONG

_Why should I be out of mind_

_Because I am out of sight?_

_I am but waiting for you._

_For an interval._

_Somewhere. Very near._

_Just around the corner._

_All is well._

From _Death is Nothing At All _by Henry Scott Holland

PROLOGUE

My name is Gallus Desidenius.

I am an agent of Nocturnal. A son of the shadows. A child of the night.

I am a scholar and a thief, a warrior and a Nightingale.

And I am running faster than I have ever run before.

Swiftly, silently, smoothly, invisible as a ghost in the eyes of all, I glide through the shadows like a gust of dark wind. The few that see me pass blink in confusion and look again, but all they see is a patch of deep, black shadow, darker than those around it, perhaps, but a shadow, nothing more. To them, I am nothing, nothing except a blur of darkness. But I know that I am so much more.

Onwards I go, through the endless night. Through a forest, beneath the softly whispering trees, as the twin moons cast their silver and ruby light down upon me. I follow the little whisper inside me, that feeling of belonging that always, always, calls me to her side. Ever since I passed into Evergloam, into the Dark Lady's realm, I have felt my love's silent call within me. No matter where I am, or what might happen, something deep within me is crying out for her.

For Karliah.

Because she belongs with me. And I belong with her.

The two of us were born to be by each other's sides.

And yet, there is a feeling of dread inside me. Because I know that I am not fast enough, no matter how swiftly the shadows bear me along. I should not have left her alone, and now I have, danger has struck. She is in mortal peril, and I - I, who swore to protect her, I, who never, _never _breaks a promise- am not there to defend her.

No matter how much I long to be with her again, to gaze into the depths of those beautiful indigo eyes, to hold her in my arms once more, I would never be able to live with myself if I allowed her do die for such a selfish reason. No matter how painful these years of separation have been for me, for her, for both of us, I would never fail to protect her life in any way I could, even if it postpones the day when we can embrace again.

Because I promised her that I would watch over her in death, just as I did in life.

I made her a promise once that I could not keep. I promised to return to her.

I never did.

And I will never break a promise to her again.

A cliff towers up ahead of me, and I see a door hidden at its foot. I pass effortlessly through it. And I stop dead, my heart hammering within my chest.

Because I can hear the shouts. The roars, the battle cries. The cries of pain, the screeches of agony, the promises of vengeance and threats of death. I can hear the clash of metal against metal as blades meet, and I can hear the hiss and _twang_ I remember so well from the thousands of time I fought at her side. The song of her bow, calling out its message of oncoming peril.

And their war cries, echoing through the hall.

'This is what happens when you cross the Guild!'

'_Zu'u Dovahkiin! _Hear my voice and despair!'

'I bring death from the shadows!'

It is the sound of this final cry that makes me draw my sword, makes me move forwards again, makes me narrow my eyes as I feel the battle-blood beginning to course through me. Because it is her voice. The voice I hear in my dreams, the voice whose sound keeps me fighting. The voice of the woman who stole my heart. And dead though I am, I swore an oath to protect her with my life, long ago. And it is an oath I intend to keep.

And so I race through the shadows of the Hall, to where the battle rages. To where the thieves, the invaders, meet the Trinity. To where the three Nightingales fight as one.

The Dragonborn stands at their head, her amber eyes blazing with rage, her silver-grey fur bristling and her tail lashing from side to side. Her teeth are bared in a savage snarl as she faces her foes, and her bow- the bow that she was given by my lover- is singing out again and again, as she sends arrow after arrow into the hearts of her bows. At her side, a blade gleams, and it is a strange sight, for it is identical in every way to the sword that I hold in my hand. It is the same blade. And it could not be wielded by a worthier hand.

It was J'shana, the Dragonborn, a child of both Elsweyr and Skyrim, Nocturnal's Agent of Strife, the warrior Nightingale, who fought beside my Karliah, helped her in her hour of need, who gave her friendship when no one else would. She gave her hope. And I will owe her forever for that.

By her side is the Agent of Subterfuge. I never met J'shana when I lived, but this man I know well. I worked and fought alongside him many a time. I was there the day that Karliah brought him into the Guild- a scruffy, ragged, homeless wanderer, who was already a thief of great skill, already at home in the shadows. Brynjolf has not lost any of his talent, and that is shown clearly now as his dagger slices through the air, and into the neck of his foe. The invader crumples to the ground like a broken toy, where he dies under the snapping jaws of J'shana's canine companion.

And beside them is the third. She has known so many names, lived so many lives. She is the descendent of Indoril Nerevar, the granddaughter of Queen Barenziah and Drayven Indoril, the daughter of Dralsi Indoril. She is a sister of the Thieves Guild. She is the Agent of Stealth. She is Nocturnal's Nightingale. She is the returned exile, the lost warrior. She is the one who avenged my death.

But she is so much more than that to me.

She is Karliah. My Karliah.

And I love her more than anything.

And that is why, for as long as I am able, I will fight.

For her.

And so, as I see one of the invaders draw his blade and rush towards her, I shoot forwards, like a lightning bolt of darkness-

And the battle begins for me.

I surround him in shadow as I reach him, blinding him. Even if we exist in different realms, different worlds, even if my blade cannot touch him, there are more ways to fight than with weapons. As he struggles, his hands reaching out to try and find some hold on the world, seeking some way out of the darkness, an arrow flashes through the air, taking him through the neck, snatching away his life. Snuffing it out as if it were a candle.

I do not need to turn around to see who has fired the shot. A smile flickers over my face. Only one person on Nirn can strike with such deadly accuracy.

_That's my girl, Karliah,_ I think, and I turn to face the next foe.

A Wood Elf bandit is closing in on Brynjolf, her flashing blade driving him backwards, until his back is to the wall. His eyes narrow and his blows become more furious, more desperate, as the fight becomes one for his life. I hurdle a fallen body and surround her in the darkness that is a part of me- or the darkness that I am part of, whichever way you would prefer to look at it.

In Evergloam, I am one with the shadows. And the shadows are one with me.

The Bosmer, too, is blinded now, blinded for the crucial few moments that it takes Brynjolf to dodge her wild blow and lunge upwards. She does not see his strike come. But she feels it, as his dagger pierces her heart. She cries out, choking, gasping for air, and then suddenly her life has left her, and she, too, falls.

I can feel no pity. These fiends would desecrate my Lady's Sepulchre, steal her sacred Key. And worse, they would try to kill Karliah.

They deserve no pity. No mercy. No remorse.

All they deserve is death.

I hear a sudden roar tear the air apart before it, and three bandits are swept of their feet and into the air at the sound of J'shana's Shout. I laugh with ferocious joy as I see them smash into the wall and lie still. One of them begins to stir, but Meeko, the war-dog who never leaves J'shana's side, crosses the Hall in four bounds and buries his teeth in the invader's throat. He screams, a terrified, screeching wail that is suddenly cut off.

There are only a handful of them left now. Still invisible to them, I turn, ready to face the next to come-

And I turn-

Turn and see-

Turn and see her-

Turn and see what she has not seen-

Turn and see the flash of a blade behind her-

Turn and see the Orc who lifts his greatsword high into the air-

Turn and see his face twist with rage and loathing-

Turn and see that Karliah has her back to him-

And then the time seems to slow down and speed forwards at once.

I scream her name, in a voice she cannot hear.

J'shana turns her head. Her fire-coloured eyes widen with horror. A warning rips from her throat.

Karliah half-turns around, and sees the blade as it catches the torchlight.

Meeko barks, a short, sharp sound that smashes through the cold air.

And the Orc brings down his sword-

He brings it crashing down through the air-

He brings it down-

Brings it down before I can stop him-

No-

No, no, no, no, no-

_Not her-_

_Please-_

_Please, Gods have mercy, not her-_

And she manages to twist aside and his sword smashes into the floor, and a cloud of dust rises from the ground, and hope shoots through me, but the Orc is throwing the blade aside, and pulling a dagger from his belt, and Karliah is still unbalanced, and she cannot move in time-

And I can see it coming-

And I am already moving-

But I know I cannot reach her in time-

I know, but still I run-

But not fast enough-

Because the Orc lunges forwards and his dagger shines and he drives it with all his strength against her armour and it buckles and bends beneath it-

It won't give way, it can't give way, it mustn't give way-

But I can see it giving way-

And now it has given way-

And the Orc lets out a snarl of triumph as his blade sinks into her flesh.

Her scream of pure, wordless agony mingles with my own, one of horror and terror and rage.

The sound of her cry makes me stop where I stand, so shaken, so terrified, it is as if the pain is mine. I am crying her name, again and again, in a voice that feels oddly separate from myself-

And the word _no _is echoing and re-echoing inside my mind-

But there is no denying the truth.

Karliah's eyes are wide as an ocean. She stares in disbelief at the knife.

Then she falls.

She falls.

My Karliah, my little Nightingale, falls.

And she falls to the ground and does not move again.

I stand frozen, as if the entire world has raised its fist and punched me in the face.

_Karliah-_

Fire rends the air, as J'shana Shouts again. The Orc is gone in a sudden burst of flame, falling to the ground in a blackened heap. Brynjolf's dagger slashes the throat of the final bandit, and then we are all running, running to her side-

Shadows cannot cry. But me? I am living shadow, and I can cry. And I feel tears of guilt and shame and fear burning my eyes as I reach her.

She is lying still, and at first I think she is already gone. But as J'shana drops to her knees by her side, she opens her eyes- those beautiful, beautiful eyes- and looks up at us, with a gaze filled with raw agony and stark fear and already clouded-

Gods, no-

Already clouded with the mists of death.

'Karliah!' The Khajiit is calling her name, clutching her hand, her eyes filled with fear. 'Karliah, breathe, just breathe, you're safe, you're going to be fine-'

But we all know that it is a lie.

My love shakes her head, and I can see the pain the tiny movement causes her. 'No.' Her voice is as weak as ice in summertime. 'This is the end for me, J'shana.'

'Don't say that. Don't you dare say that.' J'shana shakes her head, her hands scrabbling in her pockets. 'We've got potions. You're not dying on us now-'

'I already knew.' My lover swallows, her face lined with pain. 'I knew… before we came. That this would be my final battle. I could feel this day coming-'

'Stop that, lass.' Brynjolf's fists are clenched, and his face is white. 'You've got plenty more battles to fight yet.'

Karliah lets out a long, shaky, unsteady breath, and I feel as if the world is being torn to pieces in front of my eyes. It cuts me to the core, to see her in such pain, as if there were a dagger in my own heart.

'It's my time.' Her voice is so hoarse, so strained, every word a struggle. 'I have seen our Lady… in my dreams. I have heard her call. And now I will answer it.'

'No. Don't leave us.' J'shana's voice is choked with tears. 'We still need you. The Trinity…'

'You'll find someone.' It is an effort to discern the words. 'The Nightingales will survive.'

'But you can't leave us! Not now! We can't go on without you!'

The Dragonborn's voice is filled with so much desperation, so much terror and devastation and grief. And my own emotions reflect all of that- only a thousand times more strongly.

'You can. You will. You have made our Guild great, J'shana. And you will make our order great, too…' She breaks off, shuddering.

'But lass. You're the only one who understands. The Lady can't take you now.' Brynjolf's voice is thick with shock.

'You understand. You will carry on. This is… my end. I wouldn't have chosen for it to come any other way.' She is speaking barely above a whisper now. 'I've lingered on Nirn for long enough. And Gallus is waiting for me.'

The sudden burst of emotion in her voice makes me find my tongue. 'I'm waiting, Karliah.' The words, words they cannot hear, slip from me mouth before I can stop them. 'I'll wait forever if I have to. For you.'

None of them so much as glances at me. They have no idea that I am here.

But here I am. Where else could I be, when my love is dying, when she most needs my comfort?

And yet I can do nothing to ease her pain. Nothing to save her. And suddenly I know how she must have felt, as she watched this happen to me. As she watched the blade of a friend punch through my chest and tear my insides apart, as she watched me fall, my blood flowing from me like a river of red, as she heard my final cry tear through the shadows of that ancient tomb, as she watched me _die, _while unable to save me, unable to help, unable to stop it-

I should have stopped this. I should have been there for her.

I have broken a promise to her. For the second time.

J'shana's mouth opens, and it seems that she is ready to protest. And then a look of understanding crosses her face.

'Then go to him, my sister,' she murmurs. 'And take this.'

She takes her bow. Karliah's bow. Jet black metal with streaks of silver. As weapon as strong and sleek and beautiful as its owner.

Gently, J'shana presses it into Karliah's hands. A pang of mingled sorrow and pride runs through me. She is to die as she lived- as a warrior, with her weapon in her grip until the very end.

My love runs her fingers down its shining surface. 'Thank you,' she whispers.

'No, Karliah.' The Khajiit's voice is clear and filled with emotion. 'Thank you.'

And I think we all know that she is not talking about the bow.

'J'shana. Brynjolf.' Karliah raises her head, ever so slightly. 'And you too, Meeko,' she adds, with a touch of fondness. 'Listen. You gave me hope and faith and friendship, at a time when I needed it more than ever. I am forever in your debt. Nobody ever had such true and loyal friends.' Her voice is even softer than before. She is fading fast. And there is nothing I can do. 'Look after the Guild. Look after the Key. Look after yourselves…'

'Karliah-' Brynjolf begins, but she cuts across him.

'Farewell, my friends. And thank you... for all that you did for me.'

I can bear it no longer. I step forwards, out of the darkness. I hear them gasp as a shadow falls upon the wall behind me- the silhouette of a man. To them, it appears that no one is casting it- but I am here.

Joy sparks in those incredible indigo eyes. 'Gallus,' she murmurs. 'Is that you?'

'It's me, Karliah.' I know that she cannot hear the words, but I have to say them. The two other Nightingales move apart to let me through, and I am at her side in an instant, kneeling beside her and resting a hand she can neither see nor feel on her shoulder. 'It's me,' I say again. 'I'm here. I'll always be with you.'

'Have you come for me?' Sorrow and happiness shine together in her gaze. 'I'm ready.'

Her gaze flickers over her friends. 'Until we meet again… in the shadows.'

J'shana crosses her fists over her heart and bows. Brynjolf bites his lip and dips his head. Meeko pushes his muzzle into her chest, whining softly.

Karliah raises her head again and looks at me. Right into my eyes, as if she knows where I am.

'I love you, Gallus,' she breathes.

Very slowly, those eyes, those two pools of twilight, slide shut. Forever. She lets out a soft sigh. Then the sound of her breathing fades away into silence, and I know that she is gone.

'Oh, Karliah.' My voice is so thick with tears that I can hardly get the words out. 'I love you too.'

Brynjolf stares, frozen with grief and shock, Meeko's whines grow louder, and J'shana lets out a wordless wail of sorrow, her tears dripping from the ends of her whiskers. I stand, my hand still resting on her shoulder, my heart tearing itself within me.

I should be happy. After all these painful years of separation, she has finally taken the first step on the path that leads her back to me.

But how can anyone be happy, when that first step is the death of the woman that they love more than life itself?

J'shana reaches out, grasps the dagger that is still buried within Karliah's chest. She closes her eyes as she pulls it free, and hurls it aside as if it were a venomous snake. It falls into the stream with a quiet splash, sinks to the bottom, and becomes covered by shining water.

For a moment, there is silence. Deep, profound silence, broken only by the sound of our quiet weeping.

Then J'shana's voice takes me by surprise. 'Gallus. Take care of her.' The Khajiit's amber eyes sparkle with tears.

'Of course I will.' How could I not? She is the wonderful miracle sent to me by the Divines, the one who saw me for who I really am, the fierce and beautiful thief who saved my soul and stole my heart. How could I ever not take care of her?

We must both wait before we can see each other again. She must fulfil her contract in the Sepulchre; it may be many years before Nocturnal deems that the time is right for her to pass into Evergloam. But she _will_ come. And for her, I can wait. We were torn apart, but she fought on, for my sake, in my name. And now I am waiting for her. I will wait for as long as it takes.

Gently, I lean down and kiss those soft, warm lips one final time.

'Karliah,' I murmur. 'I'm waiting for you, my little Nightingale.'

* * *

**Well, that was an interesting experience. I think I can safely say that's the first time I've began a story by killing one of the main characters. It was originally going to be very different, much more like the prologue to **_**Indigo Nightingale**_**, but it wasn't working, so I tried it like this. I think it turned out much better than it was before.**

**So, I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be up in a few days, probably. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Child

**Thank you to everyone who read and review the prologue! And here is the first chapter. Please bear in mind that next to nothing is known about Gallus's past, so his family, his childhood, and all of the content of the next few chapters, was entirely made by me.**

**Hope you like it!**

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BOOK ONE – SON

_Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning._

- William A Ward

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

As with the story of any man, elf or beast who walks upon the surface of this fierce and beautiful world we know as Nirn, the story of my life is the story of the people who shared it.

Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. Friends, family, allies, and even enemies. Friends who became enemies. Enemies who became friends.

I dream of them sometimes. A few flickering images in the corners of my mind, soft, dying whispers in the shadows of the night. Pictures that play in my mind again and again. A hand on my shoulder, a gentle voice in my ear. A small hand closing around the stem of a snow-white flower. Eyes the colour of rubies looking down upon me with kindness and appraisal. A shining blade, swift as the wind, twirling and shining in the moonlight. Red-feathered arrows catching the sun as they fly through the cold, icy air. Gauntleted hands curling into fists, as their owner snarls a challenge. A hand clasping mine, a brash, confident voice making a promise. Indigo eyes that shine like two pools of crystallised twilight.

People I knew. Some I loathed, some I loved. Some shared my tears, some shared my laughter. Some who I am proud to have known, some who I regret ever having met.

But these were the people who shaped and changed my life. The people who set my feet on the path that led me here. The people who made me the man I am now.

Long ago, the Divines deemed that a man should walk the world. He should be an Imperial, a son of Cyrodiil, yet born in the harsh and unforgiving land of Skyrim, among the mountains and the snow. His eyes would be the dark brown of an eagle's feathers, and his tawny hair would always fall over them, no matter how much he tried to sweep it aside. He would be born to Iratus and Perdita Desidenius, and he would have a thirst for knowledge and a hunger for adventure. They decided the time and place of his birth, and they sent him down to Nirn, to Tamriel, to Skyrim, to take his chance among the world of mortals.

But even if it was the Divines who chose that I should be born, it was the people who shared my life with me who chose how I lived.

Their names will never leave me. Their faces, their voices, shall always be in my mind. Blood kin or stranger, friend or foe, they chose my fate just as much as I did.

These were the people who made Gallus Desidenius.

But I made myself as well.

There is a difference between fate and destiny. It is a fine line, and one that should be drawn with care. But shall repeat the words that my teacher, my mentor, my friend, told to me, the words that her daughter echoed so many years later.

We cannot change our destinies. If the Gods bestow a gif t- or, indeed a curse - upon us, we cannot alter that. Can a Dragonborn deny their power over the _thu'um_, or stop themself from devouring the soul of a slain dragon? No. They cannot. Can a child born with the blood of a warrior in their veins, who has always been intended for the oncoming storm of war, throw down their sword before they reach the battle? No. Can a coward grow courage that is not within them? Can a scholar destroy their intelligence? Can a mage forget their inborn knowledge of magic? Can a Nightingale shake off their Oath, an Oath which binds forever?

No. We cannot change what we are born to be, any more than a fire can decide to stop burning, or a river decide to stop flowing. Who we are, what lies in our souls, is decided by the Divines the day we enter this world, and it does not lie within our power to change it.

We are but mortals. The Divines are eternal.

But fate is a very different thing.

Fate is the path of our lives.

And the Divines gave us mortals a great gift. They gave us the blessing that we should decide that for ourselves.

And so the people we meet, the choices we make, the chances we take, determine where the paths of our lives lead. A single decision made in a single moment can change your fate forever. One careless word, one challenge risen to, one victory won against all odds, can crumble the fate you were heading towards, and set your feet walking towards a very different one indeed.

I know this. I have learned this over the years.

Through the lives- and, yes, the deaths, of the people I have known and loved and hated, my own life has been influenced and changed. Though I made some of my choices for myself, the people who lived my life alongside me were the ones who truly led me here.

One of them in particular is the reason I am who I am.

And I am the reason she became who she became.

But that is how love works. You give your soul and your heart to another, asking nothing in exchange, yet hoping for everything. And they give their heart and soul to you. And you become as if you were one person, knowing each other completely. And loving each other unconditionally.

The stars shine in the heavens, high, high above me, the quiet waves lap against the shore, and the branches of the golden-leafed tree under which we met so many times rustle softly in the gently breeze. I sigh to myself as I lean against its trunk. Watching. Listening. Waiting.

She is gone from Nirn. I know that somewhere, in the ancient temple of my Lady, she stands guard over the Skeleton Key, just as I once did. She will defend the Sepulchre until she has repaid her debt. And then…

I smile. For then she will come to join me. At last.

She was the one who shaped my life more than any other. She was the one who changed the way I looked at the world. She was the one who I lived for, and the one who I died for.

I whisper her name, in a voice almost too soft for me to hear.

'Karliah.'

The single word makes me tremble. The sheer beauty and magic of the name is enough to bring on a wave of emotion that nearly sweeps me off my feet.

Because I loved her- and still do love her- more than the world, more than my honour, more than my life.

My life. A friend snatched it away from me, tore it to pieces, hurled it into the next world. But what he could not destroy was the mark I left upon Nirn, upon the lives of those who knew me.

Perhaps a life too short. Perhaps a life too long.

But a life I treasured. One I am proud to have lived.

And perhaps it is time to remember that life. Every moment of it. Every moment of joy and laugher, grief and pain. Every friend, brother, sister, and foe. Every person I ever knew.

Yes. Now is the time.

I am a scholar and a thief, a warrior and a Nightingale.

My name is Gallus Desidenius.

And this is my story.

This is my life.

* * *

The room was silent. All was still. It was as if the entire world had frozen solid, or had paused to catch its breath. Or maybe it was frozen with horror, fearing what was about to come.

His eyes burned onto me, but I did not turn my head. I did not meet his gaze. That icy, fiery gaze. The gaze that I knew burned with rage and loathing, even though I did not see it. I saw his fists clenching, saw his whole body trembling. I did not look at him, staring instead at the wood panels of the floor, knowing what was coming, knowing that there was no stopping it, knowing that I could not fight back-

His hand swung towards me, seemingly out of nowhere, catching me hard across the face. I could have kept my footing had I chosen to. But I had learned long ago not to show such defiance. It only spurred him on, fuelled his anger, made it last longer. And so I let him knock me off my feet, let him send me sprawling to the floor. Tears sprang up in my eyes unbidden, and I let them show. The quicker I let him think that he had won, the sooner he would stop.

He stood over me. I did not look up. The side of my face was screaming with pain, and I had landed hard on one knee, sending agony shooting up my leg. But I still did not meet his eyes.

He swore. Swore violently, swore unrestrainedly, swore with every oath I had ever heard in my life and many more that I had never heard in all the six years I had been living. He cursed me, cursed the day I was born, cursed every hair on my head and every drop of blood in my veins. Cursed every moment I had lived on this world.

Cursed that fact that I was his son.

He jabbed his foot into me, rolling me onto my back so that I had no choice but to finally look into those chilling eyes. They were not like my eyes. I had my mother's eyes, dark and warm. His were cold blue-grey. Sometimes, I considered that they were not really eyes, but chips of stone he had put in their place to disguise that fact that he had none. No eyes, no doorways to his soul.

Because he had no soul either.

His voice was a savage snarl. 'Well?' It was more like the growl of a wolf closing in on its prey than a word that a human had spoken.

'I'm sorry,' I said, and my voice sounded so small, so weak.

He kicked me. Hard. I doubled up in pain, my eyes screwed shut, begging the Divines and the spirit of my mother to make it end soon.

'Sorry? Is you being sorry going to mend this?'

I did not reply. He waved his hands at the shard of glass that lay littered on the floor, shards from the urn that I had dropped, that had slipped from my fingers and smashed on the floor. 'Is you being sorry going to put these pieces back together, or get my money back? That thing was priceless.' He bent down, making sure that I could hear every single hate-filled word. 'Priceless, you little rat, you hear me?'

The words burst from me before I could stop them. 'How could you buy it if it was priceless?'

Behind his hulking figure, I saw Marcella- my sister, and six years my senior- clasp her hands over her mouth, heard her sharp intake of breath. Another foot connected with my stomach, and I instantly regretted my careless words. 'You keep your smart mouth shut!' He reached down and grasped the hem of my tunic, lifting me into the air. 'The Gods abandoned us the day you were born.'

'Father, that's enough.' Marcella stepped forwards, gently pulling his hands down until my feet were on the floor again. 'He's sorry. He understands. And he won't do it again.' Her eyes- eyes the same colour as his, yet so much warmer, turned onto me, looking at me intently. 'Will you, Gallus?'

I shook my head wordlessly.

My sister nodded and rested her hand on my shoulder. 'You should go to that meeting with the Jarl, father. I'll stay with him. Help him clear up the mess.'

The man who called himself my father, the man who in my eyes was no more my father than a skeever was, the man who I had once loved but now hated with every scrap of hatred that lay within me, released me and stepped back. He still shook with rage, but my sister's words had calmed him, poured a little water on the fire burning in his heart.

He pointed his finger at me. 'You keep yourself out of my sight,' he hissed. Then he turned and marched out of the room, like a storm in the shape of a man, slamming the door behind him.

We stood there together in silence, until we heard the sound of his horse's hooves clattering on the stone path outside our house. Then finally I turned my head and met my sister's sorrowful gaze.

'Oh, Gallus,' she said quietly, squeezing my hand. 'What are we going to do with you?'

I looked at the floor again. 'I don't try to make him angry.'

She sighed. 'I know. And it was an accident this time. But you need to stop-'

'Stop what? Stop him from hating me?'

She shook her head. 'He doesn't hate you, Gallus. He loves you-'

'He doesn't.' I spoke the words without the slightest hesitation. I knew that it was true. 'He used to. And then he stopped.' I glared at her. 'He loved me until mother died. And then he needed someone to be angry at and he chose me.'

Marcella drew in a long breath. 'Let's go outside. I need some air. And we can put some snow on that.' She gestured to the angry red mark slowly spreading up my cheek.

'But we need to clear this up-'

'Rhaynas can do it. It's his job, after all.'

I couldn't help but frown. It seemed unfair to me, to leave our Redguard steward to gather up the shards of the urn that had been broken because of my clumsiness. But my face was beginning to feel like it was on fire, and so I simply nodded and let her lead me out of our house, into the cold day beyond.

I scooped up a handful of snow and pressed it to my face, letting out a quiet moan as the cold began to numb the pain. Marcella watched me, her eyes filled with a mix of concern, distress, and sympathy. I could tell that one of her older-sister talks was coming on, but for once I didn't mind. I needed comfort at that moment; someone to understand. Since my mother had died, only Marcella had ever come near to understanding my feelings.

She took a seat on a large rock and motioned for me to sit next to her. I did so, after a moment's hesitation. 'Gallus,' she began, taking my hand in hers. 'I think we need to talk.'

I said nothing, but raised my head and looked at the distant mountains, at the forests that covered the land like a deep green blanket, at the shining azure sky, filled with clouds that looked like wool torn from a sheep's coat. The early morning sunlight shone upon the towering peaks, turning the snow to golden yellow. It was a beautiful scene. It was hard to believe that anyone who lived in such an awe-inspiring world could harbour such resentment and anger in their heart.

But all the goodness that had dwelt within my father had died along with my mother.

And it would never return.

I could still remember, if only very, very dimly, the times when my father had, if not loved, at least tolerated me. The black sheep of the family though I was, the rebel, the breakaway, he had put up with my constant questioning, my begging him to allow me to leave the house and see the rest of Skyrim, my boundless energy and ceaseless enthusiasm and restlessness, because I was his son, and even if he had needed to search hard to find it, there had been a part of him that had loved me. And even when his patience ran out, when his temper snapped, when those cold stone eyes burned into mine with rage and fury, my mother had been there, to calm him, to comfort me, to remind us both that we were family.

And then she had died.

And everything had changed.

Because we were simply too unalike to be able to abide each other for long.

'Listen,' Marcella said softly, and though her voice was gentle it was enough to shatter my memories and jerk me back to the present. 'I'm not going to say that I understand, because I don't. There's no use pretending I understand how you feel.'

That was what I loved so much about my sister. She came close to understanding, but she didn't, not truly. And yet she understood that she didn't.

'What I do understand is why things have become the way they have.' She bit her lip. 'It's not your fault, and it's not his fault either, but if you don't start doing something about it, it's just going to carry on.'

I didn't answer, because again, I knew she was right. Every aspect of her sentence had been right. We all knew- every member of our household- why my father had taken to loathing me so much. I returned that hatred, but I accepted that he was not to blame for it. The loss of my mother had destroyed him.

'We were always too different, weren't we?' I half-whispered the words. Melted snow trickled down my cheek and splashed onto the rocks.

Marcella nodded, with a sad smile. 'Yes. But you're more like him that you realise, you know-'

I jumped up instantly, hurling my handful of snow to the side. 'Don't you ever say that! I'm nothing like him!'

She raised her hands slightly, as if trying to calm an enraged beast. 'Gallus. Sit down.'

I slowly sank back onto my seat, glowering.

'And stop scowling,' she added.

'I'm not like him,' I mumbled, kicking the ground.

'That's not true. You love learning just as much as he does.'

'So do you. So does Prosperus.' My scowl deepened at the mere mention of my brother's name. 'So did mother. But she didn't treat me like a sewer rat. Nor do you.'

Marcella twirled a few strands of her hair around the ends of her fingers, hesitating, trying to think of a reply. 'The thirst for knowledge is in our blood,' she said finally. 'We all share it. It binds us together.' She smiled at me. 'You should be proud of that. You're years ahead of other children your age. How many other six-year-olds do you think there are who can recite every Emperor of Tamriel there's ever been without a single mistake, or speak practically fluent Ta'agra?'

I allowed myself a small grin. It was true. I could. Knowledge was power; my mother had told me that from a young age, and my father had always hastened to echo it. And I sought knowledge above all else. True strength did not lie in weapons or battle skill, but in wisdom. Young as I was, I had never doubted that fact.

'But you don't feel it in the same way as the rest of us,' my sister continued. 'Prosper and father and I… we're content to just drink it in. But you need to find it for yourself.'

I nodded vigorously. 'I can't do it like you do,' I told her. 'It's like I'm trapped when I just have to sit around soaking up what other people have discovered. I want to get out there-' I waved my hands at the mountains and forests- 'and learn the real way.'

Marcella laughed, ruffling my hair fondly. 'And one day you will, if I know you. You've got mother's spirit and father's stubbornness. I can't see myself trawling through ancient dungeons in search of lost civilisations, but I don't doubt that you will.'

'But?' I asked resentfully, knowing that there was one coming.

'But, you can't carry on like this.'

'And what am I supposed to do?' I could hear tears choking my voice, and I swallowed, trying to force them down.

Marcella was silent. Finally, she simply said, 'I don't know.'

We sat there, me still fighting back tears, her with her arm around my shoulders.

'I can't change who I am, Marcella,' I whispered.

'I know. None of us can.' She sighed yet again. 'And father can't stop himself from…' She hesitated, searching for the right words.

'From hating me?' I asked bitterly.

'No. From wishing that mother hadn't died.'

'But she did. And he hates me for it.'

'No, Gallus. He doesn't hate you.' Marcella looked at me intently. 'You have to understand that. He's just forgotten that he loves you.'

I snorted. But I knew that she was right, for yet another time.

Perhaps if our mother had died any other way, our father might have recovered. But I could still recall the day it happened. The day she went missing. The day we searched- me, a tiny four-year-old clinging to my sister's hand, Marcella ten years of age, and yet already tall and willowy, with all of our mother's beauty, Prosperus fourteen, his usual smug, self-satisfied aura shattered into pieces as tears ran down his face, as he called for our mother, again and again. And our father, his face pale, his fists clenched, eyes smouldering with anger and fear.

We searched, and then we found her. Lying in an abandoned barn. Brown eyes- eyes that had once shone with kindness and warmth- shut forever, mouth half open in a final, desperate scream of pain that nobody had heard. Her heart pierced with a dagger. The insignia of the Dark Brotherhood painted on the wall above her in her own blood.

We never knew why anyone would seek for her death, nor who it might have been. None of us cared. None of cared about anything except for the fact that she was gone. Lost forever.

The day after she was buried, my father struck me for the first time.

I cannot remember exactly how it was that such hatred began to burn between us. All I know is that my father's heart was torn apart by the loss of his love. All his anger, all his rage and resentment… he needed somewhere to direct it, before it destroyed him from within, like a disease eating away at his body. And as I was the uncontrollable child, the one he had never loved as much as the others… he had chosen me.

Now, I look back on my feelings then with shame. Perhaps if I had tried harder, it would not have come to what it came to. And I know now, as I did not know then, what it is to lose- or think you have lost- someone you love.

'Your problem is that you feel trapped,' Marcella told me, snapping me out of my thoughts for a second time. 'But things will get better, Gallus. For all of us.'

I nodded wordlessly.

'They will,' Marcella repeated, seeing my hesitation. 'You have to believe that.'

I looked at her, and the love in her eyes let me stop trying to hold back my tears. She saw them, and wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight to her chest. 'Everything will turn out okay,' she whispered in my ear. 'I promise.'

I found that I believed her. Marcella might not have been the victim of our father's anger as much as me, but she, too, had occasionally taken a blow. She was my sister in suffering as well as in blood, and my only comfort. I trusted her in a way I could trust no one else. And I knew that she was, sincerely, trying to help me, to protect me.

And yet I also knew that I could not change my personality, my soul. This was who I was. And my father hated me for who I was. Because I was too little like him.

And with a child's stubbornness and certainty, I made a decision in that moment.

I would not bow to him. I would not let him make me into a pale copy of himself, as he had done with my older brother. I would live by my own rules, be who I wanted to be. We were scholars, all of us. The hunger for knowledge was the marrow in our bones and the blood in our veins. But I would not become like my father. No. I would discover for myself. I would explore and experiment, learn the ways of the world by living them.

He could beat me. He could curse me and rue the day I was born. But what he could not do was supress my spirit. Because I was a fighter as much as a scholar. I knew it even then. He couldn't tame me, keep me in a cage. I was my own person. And I would prove that to him.

Whatever the cost.

_I am Gallus Desidenius, _I told myself. _And no matter what happens, in my mind, I'm free._

* * *

The innocence and ignorance of youth. It was both a curse and a blessing to me, back then.

In my stubbornness, I refused to stop hating him. It shames me to think of that now. He was a good man, once, long ago. But, just as it is with so many, he lost what he loved more than anything else. And so he stopped caring. Hatred made a monster of a man.

Just as it did with another good man, one I met so many years later…

Forgive me my foolishness, my recklessness. As I grew, rage gave way to reason, and knowledge and wisdom replaced haste and resentment. But a child who was friendless and alone, tormented with loss and pain and anger, is a child who has no true childhood, who learns the harshest ways of the world far, far too early.

The road that leads me into the memories of my past is a bitter and difficult road to walk. It is a road I have avoided taking for many, many years. For me, it is the present and the future that matters. What is done is done, and there is no changing it.

But there are times when you must face facts that you would rather avoid forever, take roads that are covered in thorns. Merely remembering the child I once was has made me learn things about myself I did not know before, remember things that I have forgotten for too long.

And since I have embarked upon this journey into my past now, why not walk still further down it? Why not walk along the path of my life for a second time? Why not see it all again with new eyes?

I will tell you something that has never troubled me. It still does not. After all, as I told my Karliah, it is not who we are that is important, but who we aspire to be.

I have not lost touch with that child who became the man I am now. I still share that thirst for adventure, and that hunger for knowledge.

But there is one thing I have all too little knowledge of, and that is myself.

I have never shied away from learning. And now is the time to learn who I am once again.

* * *

**Well, I hope you like this introduction to Gallus's family. I'll go into more depth about them, and his home, in the next chapter, so please save up any questions until then! By the way, I hope he doesn't seem too mature for a six-year-old. I knew he was pretty smart, and probably was from a young age, but it's a long time since I was six, so I'm not sure I got him right. I'd have made him older if I could, but I didn't want him to be that much older than Karliah.**

**Who asked for the contract on Gallus's mother? You'll find out in time… by the way, a virtual sweetroll goes to anyone who can work out why I called his mother and father Iratus and Perdita.**

**Anyway! Thanks for reading! I will try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. **


	3. Meeting

CHAPTER TWO

It is an obscure but nonetheless fascinating fact that a single skeever of the variety commonly found in Skyrim is capable of taking down a frost troll.

A frost troll is, of course, ten times the size of a skeever, and a thousand times more vicious. Even the toughest and most battle-hardened warrior will be reluctant to tangle with one of them. What with their rapid healing ability, massive strength and frightening ferocity, any prolonged fight with a troll can prove fatal. A single blow from those razor-sharp talons can be enough to finish a mortal instantly. And yet a skeever- tiny, unarmed, and unprotected- can destroy one in a single bite.

Unarmed? No. The skeever has a secret weapon, one that has claimed the life of many a fool who has underestimated it.

Imagine it. A frost troll, loping through the mountains, following the scent of blood, searching for its prey. It catches the scent of a small creature, hiding nearby, and the smell of its blood draws the troll towards it in the same way that a thief is drawn to a gemstone. It pulls aside the rocks to reveal a skeever, that loathed and repulsive rodent, its teeth bared in hatred and its fur bristling with fury. Before the troll can move, the creature is upon him, its fangs buried in its ankle. It sinks in its teeth for no more than a single second, and then it is running, evading the troll's strike, its far greater speed and agility carrying it quickly away from the lumbering predator. The troll grunts with disappointment at its ruined hunt, and continues on its way.

But the damage has been done. The skeever, like the troll, is a scavenger. And it is far from choosy about its meals. Even the longest-dead, most rotten carcass is a feast for it. It gorges itself to bursting point on the flesh, feeding with the savagery and appetite of a wolf. And as it feasts, the rot carried within the meat, the pestilence and disease, soaks into the skeever's fangs, right into their very core. Small fangs, harmless looking fangs, but fangs deadlier than those of a sabre cat, because of the plague they carry on them. And as the skeever bites down into the frost troll's leg, piercing the thick hide, biting down into the flesh, that infection is passed into the troll.

There is no stopping it, no curing it. All the troll's fast healing abilities are useless to it now. The pestilence spreads through its body like fire through a forest, slowly but surely poisoning it. All that skull-crushing strength is drained from it. Its fury wavers and dies. Bit by bit, it becomes helpless. And as it slowly succumbs, gleaming, malevolent eyes watch from the shadows. Waiting.

And finally the troll collapses, the rot in its body felling the mighty beast at last. And that is when a squealing mass of dark bodies explodes from the darkness, shrieking with glee and greed, falling upon their powerless victim. The troll's roars of agony are drowned out by the screeches of the skeever pack as they drag it down and tear into it, feasting on its flesh while it still lives. The troll strikes out at them with the last of its strength, but the talons that have claimed the lives of countless prey are of no use to it now. A few of the loathsome rodents are flung aside, smashed to pieces or torn apart, but even as they squeal and kick and breathe their last, more take their places. Soon the troll is invisible beneath a writhing blanket of countless black bodies. And finally, its last agonised bellow tears through the mountains- only to be suddenly cut short. And the only sound is that of the clacking of teeth on bone and the tearing of flesh and the snarls and squeaks of the victors.

There will be nothing left for the other scavengers. All the wolves and hawks and bears will find is bones. The skeevers will even devour their fallen comrades. Nothing will escape their hunger.

Skyrim is a beautiful place. But it holds savagery and cruelty in the most unexpected places. Who would have thought a simple skeever able to fell a troll?

I expect you are wondering why I am telling you this, what the purpose is. Perhaps you knew this already. Perhaps you are waiting with impatience for me to continue my tale, instead of supplying you with useless facts.

Well, I shall do my best to explain.

The troll is a mighty beast, feared by many, hated by some, and respected by all. Respected, because any creature of such awesome power and ferociousness is worthy of awe. It tears to pieces those that stand in its way. All that anger it are crushed it its bone-shattering grip. The small creatures of the world flee at the sight of it, and even the toughest of beasts will hesitate to engage in combat with it. To be sure, some can fell it, but they are few. Its power is unquestionable. To defy it is death.

A skeever, on the other hand, is small, and much hated. It must live in the shadow of the greater, more powerful creatures, the ones that could crush it beneath their feet as easily as if they were crushing an insect. It must scurry and scuttle around in the darkness, occasionally finding the courage to sneak out into the light, but for the most part, remaining hidden, staying out of sight as best as it can. If it uses its strength to fight back against its oppressors, it will be destroyed. But if it uses its secret weapons, its wits… it will always emerge victorious.

Should a skeever and a troll come to open combat, there can only ever be one winner. Within seconds, the skeever will lie dead, its life ripped or crushed from its body. The troll's greater size and strength will see it die before it can land a single strike of its own.

But if the fight is a secret one, a battle fought with wits… then the skeever is more powerful than the mightiest of dragons. Its mind is quick, its wits sharp… and its teeth quicker and shaper still.

Perhaps you understand now what I mean.

For the painful, agonising years of my youth, I was the skeever, and my father was the troll. His power was absolute. To challenge him, to defy his mastery, was to sign my own death warrant. He could crush me easily if I dared to disobey him. If it came to a confrontation, he would win. He would always win. There was no way around it. He was strong and I was weak. He was omnipotent and I was powerless.

But there was another way that I could win.

I knew that to dare to fight back against my father was useless, pointless, hopeless. But there were more ways of fighting back than with brute strength.

And so it was that I learned to act like the skeever. I taught myself to keep out of sight, to make sure that I was not noticed. If I saw him, then I would dart away out of sight, hiding until he was gone, not emerging until the danger was past. When I had no choice but to face him, I stayed quiet, saying nothing, and if I had to say something, I would be careful to make sure that it would not give him an excuse to lash out. Seen and not heard, and usually not even seen. I learned how not to be noticed, how to be ignored, or better still, invisible.

Iratus and Perdita Desidenius had three children.

But one of them was invisible.

Becoming unseen… it helped me. It allowed me some escape, however small, however slight, from the Oblivion in which I was living in. Time to reflect, to gather my thoughts, to contain my hatred and anger. To be myself- something I was allowed to be all too little.

Perhaps that was why, when I was older, I chose the path I did. I knew how to hide myself, to make myself unnoticed. I felt comfortable when I was hidden, because it was all I knew. And the life of a thief- that of a Guild thief, a thief with honour and a code- it came to me like swimming comes to an Argonian, or spellcasting to an Altmer.

In those times when I was alone and unseen, I would dream of becoming that skeever. A creature that was hated and loathed, something that could so easily be crushed. And yet a beast that carried a deadly secret, a lethal weapon one that could bring down the mightiest of foes…

I dreamed that one day I might find some hidden inner strength of my own, to bring down the troll that tried so hard to tear me to shreds with its claws.

But until I found that strength… I would keep to the shadows.

And that was how I spent the days of my youth. As an invisible child.

Because only by becoming invisible could I keep myself from succumbing.

There was only one escape from the misery in which I lived my life, and that was to leave Nirn behind entirely.

In those days, books were far, far more to me than dusty old tomes, endless sheaths of paper covered in the scribblings of long-lost scholars. They were gateways, portals to other worlds, and whenever I pulled open their covers, they let me into a different universe.

With them to help me leave my tortured life, I travelled all over Tamriel without moving from my seat. I climbed to the peak of Red Mountain and gazed into the liquid fire below. I walked the sands of Elsweyr, and wandered alongside the Khajiit through tropical forests, dusty badlands and rolling savannas. I craned back my head to see the peak of the famous White-Gold Tower. I sank knee-deep into the swamps of Black Marsh. I set sail onto the Sea of Ghosts, in search of new lands and adventure. I learned how to battle a bear and survive with the toughest of Skyrim's adventurers. I was taught guerrilla battle tactics by the Renrijra Krin. I discovered the ways of ancient civilisation with the explorers of old. I went to places I would never see, met people I would never meet, discovered things I would never find. I set myself free.

And when I closed the cover of whatever book I had been reading, shut off my portal to whatever new world I had travelled to, I would not allow my journeys to end there. I would sit back and close my eyes, and dream myself away. I would let my mind wander to wherever it was in the world that I had just visited so briefly within the pages of the book, and this time I would not be limited to the words that whoever had written the tome had set down for me. I was my own master, and my imagination took me wherever I pleased. I could do anything I wanted to do, be anyone I wanted to be. The opportunities were endless.

I would dream myself all over the world, and become a million different people. I left Gallus Desidenius behind, and turned myself into people who could not have been more different. I unlocked countless different parts of me, and I travelled all over Nirn while never moving an inch.

However, there was one dream that I always returned to, one that was different to all the rest. In this dream, I was always myself, and I was here, at home, in the real world. With one difference.

I had a friend.

I had someone who understood me, who I understood in return. Someone who could share both my laughter and my tears. Someone who would travel with me to the far-off lands I dreamed of visiting. A friend. Something I had never, never had.

It was a dream I never expected to be realised.

And that was why I was so surprised when it finally came true.

* * *

'Trolls?'

My older brother snatched the book from my hand and leafed through it, an expression of smug, contemptuous amusement written across his features. I stared frostily at him, saying nothing. With Prosperus, it was always wiser to keep my mouth shut.

He began to read from the tome in a mocking voice. _'Trolls are roughly man-shaped, with lengthy, muscular arms that end in claw-tipped fingers. The creature's large mouth is filled with jagged teeth, all the better to crunch the bones of foolish hunters who didn't purchase my book. Without a doubt, the troll's most distinctive and unusual feature is the third eye nestled in the centre of its forehead. A troll's hide is covered in think, shaggy fur. The colouration of this fur varies by region. Cave troll fur is brownish in colour, while a frost or snow troll will have a white coat.' _Prosperus dropped the book onto the floor, where it landed face-down, crushing some of the pages. 'I wouldn't have thought even you were stupid enough to need a book to tell you that.'

I ignored him, standing up from my chair and picking up the book. I carefully laid it on my desk and began folding out the creased pages. 'If you have to throw books around, use your own,' I told him shortly. 'What are you doing in my room anyway?'

I had little patience with Prosperus. If Marcella was a smaller copy of our mother, then Prosper was father all over again. Admittedly, he at least didn't hate me. He simply ignored me, and if he did pay me any attention, it was only to scorn me. I kept out of his way as much as I could, and returned his derision by simply ignoring him right back as much as I could. He was even more of a stranger to me than my father was.

'You've got my copy of _Racial Phylogeny.' _He picked it up from my desk and tucked it under his arm. 'I never said you could take it.'

I glared at him. 'I was reading that.'

'And now I'm reading it.' He smirked and turned to leave. 'I need it for that study on the different forms of the Khajiit I'm working on. I still need to work out the difference between a Cathay and a Suthay. You can wait.'

Finally stung to anger, I stood up and faced him. 'The Suthay form of Khajiit is born when both moons are new. They are digitigrades, meaning that they walk on their toes, like quadruped mammals. The Cathay occurs during a waxing Masser and a full Secunda, and is one of the most common types. They are taller than the Suthay, and walk on their feet. Most of the Khajiit seen here in Skyrim are Cathay. And by the way, there's a mistake in that book. It says Cathays are born when Masser is waning. That would be an Alfiq. But go ahead. Take the book.'

Propserus stared at me for a moment, and I was pleased to see that he looked as shocked as if I had suddenly grown an extra head. Then my glee was shattered as he picked up the _Troll Slaying _book and hurled it out of my open window. A moment later, I heard it land with a thump on the ground outside. My brother smirked and marched off, taking his book with him.

For a few seconds, I stared with intense dislike at his retreating back. He might have ten years on me, but sometime I felt that I was a thousand times more mature than he was. Still, there was no denying that he was twice my height, already beginning to accompany father on some of his meeting with the Jarl, and almost a man. And again, if it came to a fight... there would only be one winner.

I gave a sigh of resignation and traipsed outside in order to recover my book before it got wet. It was a warm day, but there had been rainclouds threatening the sky for much of the morning, and I had no desire to see one of my gateways to an alternate reality ruined. To my relief, the fall had not damaged it too much. A couple of pages were mud-streaked, and the cover had been dented by falling onto a rock, but it was otherwise unharmed. I wiped mud and dust from it and patted it slightly, as if trying to apologise for allowing it to be given such rough treatment.

I had intended to return inside after retrieving it, but as I stood in the open, a possibility occurred to me. Father was at yet another meeting with some important nobles. Marcella and Prosperus were both in their rooms, buried in books. It was nearing twelve o'clock, which meant that Rhaynas, our steward, would be asleep, as he always was at this hour. And better still, my father's housecarl, a Nord woman named Jaila, who was warm-hearted but constantly over–protective of the entire family, would have gone with him. There was nobody to stop me from slipping away for a while.

I glanced carefully around. There was nobody watching me. If I was back quickly, then nobody would even know I had been gone.

My decision was made in a split second. I carefully placed the book in the shadow of the house, where it would be protected from any rain. I grinned mischievously to myself, and stole away into the cover of the nearby woods.

I had very seldom been away from home before, only ever as far as Falkreath, the nearest town. Even then, I had always had someone accompanying me. This would be my first time out alone.

Of course, I knew that there were several fairly good reasons for me to not go out alone. Trolls, wolves, bears, bandits, sabre cats… all would make short work of a six-year-old Imperial boy. But I had had enough of being cooped up in the same house like a dog chained in a kennel, or a horse penned in its stable. Even if it was only for a short while, I wanted to be free.

I walked in a straight line from my house, so as to be sure that I would be able to find the way back. I wasn't intending to actually go anywhere, just to be able to get some peace for a while… and to finally explore the world around me.

A bird exploded from the trees above my head, shrieking a warning. A rabbit bounded away from me, its white tail flashing among the dark shadows of the trees. At one point, I stopped with a gasp of breathless awe as I saw a magnificent bull elk grazing in a clearing up ahead of me, its antlers shining in the sunlight and its pelt looking as if it were made of velvet. I had never seen an elk before, except in drawings, and to me, the sight was awe-inspiring enough to take my breath away.

It raised its noble-looking head and daintily sniffed the air, before leaping away through the trees. I gazed in amazement after it, watching until it had vanished from sight.

The sky was the blue of Marcella's eyes, and the grey clouds that had been building earlier had given way to tufts of white. The evergreen trees swayed gently back and forth, and my feet crunched on the carpet of pine needles as I walked on. It was a breathtakingly beautiful scene, and suddenly I did not want to return home. All I wanted was to keep on walking for the rest of eternity, forever free, with no one to beat me or oppress me or curse my birth. I would have sold my soul to be able to never return.

The trees parted ahead of me, and I found myself standing at the edge of another clearing. A large tree stump in the centre hinted that a mighty pine might once have stood there, but from the way it had been severed cleanly, someone had clearly cut it down and carried it away to provide many sweet-smelling, long-lasting logs for their fire. The felling of the tree had opened up this break in the trees, making the clearing. The ground was covered in soft, pale green grass and bright blue, purple, white and pink flowers. A small stream ran through the centre, sparkling in the sunlight, as dazzling as if it were made of liquid diamond.

I looked in wonder and the beautiful sight, and suddenly realised that I was not alone.

Sitting on the tree stump, legs dangling over the edge, blonde hair flowing freely out behind her in the light breeze, was a young girl.

She was wearing a light pink dress with dark blue sleeves, belted at her waist over a cream-coloured skirt. Her back was to me, so that I couldn't see her face, but she looked to be a Nord, with her fair hair and pale skin. She was pulling petals off an ivory-coloured flower while quietly singing _The Dragonborn Comes_ in a sweet, melodic voice that wavered ever so slightly on the high notes, but as I tentatively approached, she stiffened with shock for a moment, then relaxed and threw the flower aside.

'Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare?' she demanded, her thick Nordic accent so different to those of my family that for a moment I was taken by surprise, and struggled to find my tongue.

'Sorry,' I said sheepishly, suddenly self-conscious, knowing how strange my own voice must sound to her.

She stood up and turned around, and at last I could see her face. She was about my own age, and a little taller than me, her braided blond hair framing her face and casting golden shadows upon it. Her eyes were blue, but eyes quite unlike those of my family. Marcella, Prosper and my father's eyes were grey-blue, like pale slate. The Nord girl had eyes the colour of the summer sky.

She smiled at me. 'Don't worry. I guess you didn't expect to see anyone out here, right?'

I shook my head. 'Um, no.'

Her smile changed to a grin. 'I'm not going to bite you, you know!' she told me with a small giggle.

I found myself smiling back. 'Promise?'

Her eyes shone. 'Promise!' She held out her hand. 'I'm Henja.'

I hesitated for a moment, then took her hand and shook it. 'Gallus, Gallus Desidenius.'

She frowned slightly. 'Desidenius? Do you live on the other side of the forest, that way?'

I nodded. 'Yes. Why?'

'My family live that way, on the other edge.' She jerked her head behind her. 'My father owns the farm right next to your father's land.'

I dipped my head. On the few times I'd visited Falkreath, I had seen their home from the road. It was a little smaller than ours, but not by much. Clearly, they were among the luckier of Skyrim's farmers.

Henja sat back down on the tree stump. 'Your father visits the Jarl a lot, doesn't he?'

The tree stump was large enough for me to sit down next to her. 'I guess.'

She nodded thoughtfully. 'Why's that?'

I frowned as I realised that I was uncertain. 'I… I'm not sure. I think it's because he's smart, and he knows a lot.' Even if I loathed him, there was no denying that my father was far from the being the last sharp sword in the armoury.

'And rich,' Henja added.

'Maybe that too. I don't really care.' I kicked the earth uneasily. I didn't like talking about him.

Henja looked at me intently. 'You don't sound like you get on with him.'

I snorted. 'I don't.'

There was a moment of awkward silence, until I felt compelled to break it. 'Do you like your father?'

She nodded, almost guiltily, as if she felt ashamed of having a father who loved her when I did not. 'Yes. He's a little quiet a most of the time, but he's nice and funny.' She sighed. 'The only thing I don't like about him is that he's always complaining that we don't have enough land. And he wants me to be a farmer like him when I'm older.'

I glanced at her. 'So you don't want to be?'

She sniffed. 'Of course not! What sort of a life is that? All there'd be for me would be ploughing fields, getting muddy and being married off to some mucky slob.' She shook her head, and a glint of excitement crept into her eyes. 'No, I'm going to be an adventurer.'

I grinned delightedly. 'Me too! Well, a sort of scholar-adventurer-explorer. I want to go to the places I read about in my books, like Elsweyr and Solstheim and the Summerset Isles. I want to discover lost civilisations and explore places. And then I'll write books about the places I find so that other people know that I was the one who discovered them.'

Henja nodded excitedly. 'I'm going to travel all over Skyrim. I'm going to climb right to the top of the Throat of the World, and find the heart of Labyrinthian. And when I've finished exploring Skyrim, I'm going to go all over Tamriel. And when there's nothing left for me to discover in Tamriel, I'm going to make myself a ship and go to sea and not stop sailing until I've found a whole new country! And the name of Henja Snow-Walker will be famous all over Nirn!'

She jumped to her feet and looked at me quizzically. 'Do you have any brothers or sisters?'

I didn't see how it was related to adventuring, but I frowned and nodded. 'Yes. One of each.'

'Are they any good to play with?'

I shook my head. 'No. Prosperus is the most boring person on Nirn and Marcella's always reading.'

Henja picked up a stick from the ground. 'It's the same with me. I've got a little brother, Hjalmur, but he's only four and he's too small for me to play with properly.'

She twirled the stick around in her hand. 'Have you ever heard of Gormlaith Golden-Hilt?'

I nodded vigorously. 'Of course! She was one of the three great Nord heroes who fought against Alduin on the Throat of the World. She killed four dragons in one day before Alduin himself finally brought her down.'

Henja's grin widened. 'When I'm older, I want to be just like her.' She tossed her stick from hand to hand, threw it into the air, and caught it again. 'Do your parents know you're here?'

For a moment, my heart clenched as she said _parents._ I shook my head hesitantly. 'No. I went without telling my family. But my father won't be home for ages.'

'I didn't tell mine, either, but they know where I am. I always come out here when I need some time alone. They won't worry about me. We've got loads of time.' Henja's eyes shone. 'I'll be Gormlaith, and you can be Alduin!'

'Alduin?' I exclaimed. 'I'm not being an evil dragon lord! I'll be Hakon One-Eye, and…' I cast my eyes around, and they settled on a dead tree. 'And that tree over there can be Alduin.'

Henja grinned, snapped the stick in two and threw half to me. 'Forwards, brother Hakon!' she roared, brandishing her half above her head. 'To the battle!'

I ran forwards and dealt the tree a hefty blow. 'The World-Eater shall die today, by our hands!'

The tree shook slightly. Henja thumped it. 'Hah, see how he trembles before us! The day of your doom has come, Alduin!'

A branch snapped off. I cheered. 'See, we have already wounded him! Slay the beast, see him fall!'

'Now you shall pay for coming to Skyrim!' Henja added, stabbing it again.

We continued to hit it until finally Henja pronounced that the battle was won. 'Alduin flees from us! He fears our power!'

I waved my stick in the air. 'You can fly away from us, but you cannot escape us! We will hunt you down and slay you!'

'Come, brother! Let us chase the vile worm away from our home!'

Henja dashed off instantly, shouting threats to the sky, and I followed after her without a moment of hesitation. I was smiling in a way I had never smiled before, and I was feeling a warm glow inside me. Some new emotion was running through me, something that was completely foreign. It was as if pure light had replaced the blood in my veins.

For a moment, I struggled to put a name to it. And then I realised that it was joy.

* * *

That was how I met Henja.

That was how I found my first friend.

That was how I learned that there could be light in a world of darkness, hope in a world of despair, love in a world of hate.

That was how I began to realise that there was more to life than enduring what was thrown at me.

That was how I came to realise that life was not for existing, but for living.

And so it was that I began to live.

* * *

**Henja is entirely made by me. She will be playing a big part later in the story. I hope you like her, because I know I do!**

**Thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed and favourited! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. See you then!**


	4. Flight

**Hi, everyone! Here is chapter three of A Nightingale's Song!**

**I am going to point out before I begin that almost everything that happens in these earlier chapters is happening for a reason. I am not writing anything that is not going to tie in with something that is going to happen later. This I promise. I thought it might be best if you bear that in mind...**

**Oh, and since I forgot to mention last chapter, the promised virtual sweetroll goes to Darkest Cloud, who was the only person worked out the meanings of the names of both of Gallus's parents. They are both derived from latin, since Cyrodiilic is clearly latin. 'Perdita' comes from 'perditus' meaning lost, and 'Iratus' means angry, irate or wrathful. Incidentally, I looked up the meaning of Gallus's name while I was researching, and I found that it means 'cockerel.' Interesting...**

**Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

Spring gave way to summer; a bright, glorious summer that seemed to bring life into every corner of Skyrim. The shining white snow on all but the highest peaks of the towering mountains melted, running down into the rivers and filling them to the brim with pure, clear water. The grass was greener and fresher than I had ever seen it before. The sky was a dazzling azure, the clouds ivory white, the mountains the colour of polished steel. Everywhere I looked, the world seemed brighter and more beautiful than it ever had before.

It might have been the warm sun, and the fresh rains. It might have been the turn of the seasons bringing on better weather. But as far as I was concerned, the day I met Henja, my life took a turn for the better.

Suddenly, I had a friend. A playmate, a companion, almost a sister. It was as if someone had lit a torch in the blackness of despair that was my life. Hardly a day had passed since our first meeting when I had not gone to visit her. We met every morning, almost without fail, in the glade where the silver stream ran and the mountain flowers grew. We would talk and sing and laugh and play together, our smiles bright as the sun shining down upon us, our laughter sending the birds flying up from the trees in fright.

I began to live for those hours in our secret glade. Hours of happiness, hours of joy like nothing I had ever experienced before. I felt like I was finally living the way a child should live. In a single day, Henja had changed my life. I still did what I had always done- travelling the world whilst never leaving my home- except it was a thousand times better, with a friend at my side. Henja and I had been to every corner of the known world, and discovered a thousand and one unknown lands. Together, we had not only slain Alduin, but delved into darkened passageways far beneath the depths of the earth, in search of the last of the Dwemer. We had found them, too, and brought them back to the surface world, and into the light. We had managed to prevent a brutal Thalmor invasion, saved the world from being overrun by Draugr, and climbed to the peak of the Throat of the World- where we had battled Alduin yet again. Every day, there would be a new mission, a new adventure, new identities to take on, new things about the world and about ourselves to discover.

Sometimes we would simply sit on the tree stump and talk. We would talk about the memories of our pasts, the dreams of our futures. We would tell tales that we had heard or read, legends that we loved, myths that we wished could be true. Other times, we would wander through the forest together. I would bring my journal with me, taking notes on the fauna and flora I found. Henja would climb trees, toss stones into the stream until she found one that would bounce on the surface of the water, and interrupt my meticulous recording by asking me questions, or yelling to frighten away the animals that I had been watching. I would yell at her, and she would respond by grinning until my frustration inevitably faded and I found myself smiling back.

But most of the time, we would shed our real personalities and forget all knowledge of who we were. We became warriors, soldiers, adventurers, explorers, mages, thieves, assassins. We became anything we wanted to be. We would either take it in turns being the villains, or we would take up our trusty sword-sticks and thrash the long-suffering dead tree. Dragons, Draugr, vampires, werewolves, Thalmor, trolls, giants, bears, sabre cats- all fell at our hands.

But it was not until a day perhaps four months after our first meeting that we actually tasted real adventure, that we took down a real foe.

It is a day I still look back on with pride and wonderment.

It is also a day that I remember with fear and shame.

It began the same way as any other day. We were seated together- my father at the head of the table, Prosperus on his right, Marcella on his left, and me next to Marcella. As far away from my father as I could get, with my sister to protect me if tempers became frayed. The rest of them ate slowly and with dignity- in the same way that they went about everything else- but I sprang upon my food like a starving sabre cat, wolfing it down as fast as I could.

'Must you gulp your food like that?' Prosperus stared at me in distaste, and I was glad to have my full mouth as an excuse not to reply.

Marcella smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder. 'Slow down, Gallus. There's no hurry.'

No hurry? I almost choked in disbelief. How could she say that there was no hurry? No hurry, with the sun shining, the birds singing, the sky clear and the day bright and warm? No hurry, with Henja waiting for me in our glade, ready to accompany me on yet another mission into the unknown? No hurry, with evil to be fought, lives to save, places to go, people to see, and adventures to be had?

But I had told no one of my newfound friend yet, not even Marcella. Father would almost certainly not approve, Prosperus would jeer, and Marcella would be worried about me, sneaking off into the wilds of Skyrim alone. I had kept her a closely guarded secret, and though I knew that it would emerge sooner or later, I was hoping that it would be later. And so I had to nod, as if agreeing, slow my eating pace until they were distracted, and then speed up again until my plate was empty.

I disappeared to my room the moment I had finished, and spent a few minutes reading, so as to make sure the other thought that I was at home and safe. I listened hard for the telltale signs- the front door slamming and my father's horse cantering away down the cobbled road, the sound of Prosperus thumping books down on his desk, Marcella quietly humming to herself as she leafed through the pages of a worn, ancient tome. Those were my signals to jump to my feet, pull on my boots, and creep down the stairs as silently as I could.

The moment I was out of the house, I broke into a run. I knew the way to our glade like the back of my hand now. It took me only a few minutes to reach it. When I did, I was unsurprised to see Henja already there, tapping her foot impatiently.

'You're late,' she told me indignantly. 'I've been waiting ages.'

I grinned at her. 'No, you haven't.'

She kept up a straight face for a few seconds, then gave up and laughed. 'All right. I've been waiting five minutes.'

She picked up our sticks, leaning against the tree stump. 'Guess what happened last night.'

'What?'

'That's just it. You have to guess.'

I snatched my stick from her and thumped it meaningfully against my hand. 'Henja…'

She grinned. 'I saw a sabre cat.'

My eyes widened. 'A sabre cat? A real, live sabre cat? Where was it? What was it doing?'

She nodded. 'I was helping Father plough the field, and we saw it. It was hunting elk.'

'How big?'

She stood on tiptoe and stretched her hands as far above her head as she could. 'This big.'

'Wow.' I stared at her enviously. 'I've always wanted to see a sabre cat. Did you see it kill anything?'

She shook her head ruefully. 'No. Father told me to go inside while he saw it off. I watched from the window, though.'

'Did he kill it?' I asked eagerly.

Henja nodded enthusiastically. 'He went and got his bow, and he shot it. Right through the head, like that.' She mimed firing a bow. 'It didn't kill it straight away. He had to shoot it again. And when it was dead, he skinned it and took out the teeth. He's going to sell the pelt and most of the teeth the next time he goes to Falkreath, but he gave me these.'

She reached into her pocket and brought out two small, deadly-looking fangs, the colour of dirty snow. I gave an awed gasp and picked one of them up, turning it over in my fingers. Its surface was smooth, yet when I tentatively pressed my finger to the tip, it was still sharp, so much so that I had to quickly bring my hand away before I cut myself. I could well believe that this tooth had once torn beasts to shreds- maybe even mortals, too.

'I'm going to make mine into an amulet,' Henja told me, slipping her tooth back into her pocket. 'But you can keep that one.'

I stared at her in delight. 'Really?'

'Of course. I told Father you would want to study it.' She drew out the word 'study' as if mocking it, but I knew that she understood. What listening to ancient legends was to her, learning about the world around us was to me.

I beamed at her. 'Thanks, Henja.'

'No problem.' She chewed her lip thoughtfully and picked up her stick again. 'How about being sabre cat hunters today?'

I nodded, my eyes shining. 'Yeah. The most famous sabre cat hunters in Skyrim.'

Henja ducked behind a tree. 'Stay under cover. The beast will see us coming.'

'Or smell us,' I reminded her. 'Their sense of smell is estimated to be roughly fourteen times as good as a mortal's-'

'Sabre cat hunters do not know things like that!' Henja hissed, thumping me. 'All they know is how to kill them!'

'Sorry,' I whispered. 'It's true, though.'

The Nord girl glanced around, then dashed forward, hiding behind another tree a little further on. 'Ha, I see the creature up ahead!'

I followed her lead. 'Today is the day it dies. All its kind will fear us, forevermore!'

Henja nodded. 'We cannot fail this mission. This is a man-eating sabre cat, and it's been preying on the people of Falkreath-'

'Let's let it go! It might eat my father!' I whispered, and Henja laughed.

'This beast has to die, for the safety of the people of Skyrim,' she reminded me.

I rolled my eyes. 'Whatever you say…'

'Sssh!' Henja hissed. 'You'll alert it to our presence!' She raised her stick, held it in front of her as if it were a bow, and pulled back an invisible string, ready to fire a non-existent arrow. I copied her.

'Ready,' Henja murmured.

I nodded. 'Ready.'

'Aim!' She narrowed her eyes at a patch of ground ahead of us, and I could see the ferocious predator in my mind, its mottled, shaggy pelt standing out against the undergrowth.

'Aimed,' I told Henja, and she grinned.

'Fire!' she roared, and we released our unseen arrows.

'Did we kill it?' I asked eagerly.

'No, we only wounded it. And now it's running. Quick, after it! We cannot let it escape!'

She tore off through the woods, and I hurtled after her, yelling dire threats to our invisible quarry. 'Run all you like, you won't escape the wrath of the sabre cat hunters!'

'Yeah! Because we have the speed of elk, the skill of wolves and the eyes of eagles!' Henja shouted. 'Our prey never escapes us!'

'It just did escape us!'

'Yes, but we're going to catch it! Come on!'

We kept running, branches and leaves crunching under our feet, deer, rabbits and birds taking flight as we reached them, their startled calls echoing through the forest. We ran through parts of the wood I had never seen before, places where streams tumbled over rocks with splashes and leaps and sprays of mist, places where ivy had grown so thick around a spindly pine that it had almost dragged it to the ground, places where the fire of a giant's camp glowed through the trees as if a miniature sun had been dragged from the skies and placed on the surface of Nirn, places where ancient trees, seemingly old as the world itself, creaked and groaned in the wind, as their rustling branches whispered in the breeze, as if sharing softly spoken words that told of hidden knowledge and secret things.

_Perhaps trees talk to each other,_ I thought with a smile. _Perhaps when their leaves rustle, they're talking. Maybe some of these trees are telling their friends about two children, running through their forest, chasing an invisible sabre cat…_

Henja suddenly stopped short, and I slammed into her.

'Hey!' she yelped.

'Sorry. Why'd you stop?'

She held a finger to her lips, gesturing for me to be silent. 'Look.'

She pointed, and my eyes followed her outstretched finger, through the trees, towards the cluster of slate-coloured boulders that lay ahead of us.

The rocks were lying as if one of the Divines had been carrying them through the heavens, and they had slipped through their fingers and fallen to Nirn. One, a longish, flat one, was placed horizontally over two smaller, squat ones, forming a sort of bridge shape. Several more were piled up at the back of the bridge, forming a small cave-like structure. I could not tell whether it had been formed naturally or whether someone- or something- had put it together. What I could tell, though, was that it was not empty.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was a rank, musty smell, thick and heavy in the air, the sort of smell that had hung around the remains of wolf and bear kills Henja and I had encountered in the forest. It was the smell of a predator. A killer.

I looked into the cave, my heart in my mouth, and my eyes widened as I took in the dark, hairy form huddled within.

'Is that…' Henja's voice trailed off.

I finished the sentence, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open with astonishment. 'A troll.'

I have always had a long-standing fascination with trolls. Perhaps it is because of so many of the tales my mother told me when I was younger featured them, or their hunters. The creatures have always fascinated me- their three eyes, their ferociousness, their cunning, their strength. Everything about them. And I suddenly found myself inching closer.

Henja grabbed hold of my arm. 'Don't go too close to it! It might wake up.'

I stopped, but continued to stare into the depths of the den. 'I've never seen one before.'

'Neither have I.' Henja sounded as awed as I felt. 'It's bigger than I though it'd be.' Her nose wrinkled. 'And it stinks.'

I squinted through the shadows of the lair. 'I wish I'd brought my journal with me.' I closed my eyes and frowned, trying to embed everything about the scene into my memory, in order for me to write it up later, when I returned home. 'Common troll, found in the forests south-west of Falkreath. Lair in a pile of boulders.' I looked around. 'Bones of previous kills scattered around-'

'Gallus,' Henja said suddenly, sounding worried.

'Ssh,' I hissed. 'Pelt colour, dark brown. Size… about twice my height.'

'Gallus!'

'What?'

'Shouldn't we go before it wakes up?'

'Why would it? Trolls have an exceptionally poor sense of hearing, and its eyes are shut, aren't it?'

'Yes, but the wind's blowing towards us, and don't you keep saying that trolls have a really good sense of-'

The troll grunted and shifted in the darkness. Our heads snapped towards it. Very slowly, it raised its head. Then suddenly three eyes were gleaming at us from the depths of the cave, glinting with malice.

'-smell,' Henja finished, her pale skin turning paler still.

We started to back away without a word, as if by some unspoken agreement passed between the two of us. The troll's dark form shifted again, and a low growl made the air tremble.

I looked at Henja. She was shaking, and her eyes were round with terror. Henja, my brave, fearless friend Henja, was afraid.

And suddenly, so was I.

I could feel my heart thumping against my ribs, pounding like a drum. My breath was suddenly catching in my throat, as if a hand was tightening around my neck, cutting off all my air. I had never known fear such as this before. It was not the same fear I felt as my father towered over me, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with rage. He would strike me and beat me and do what he would with me, but one thing I knew he would not do was kill me. No matter what we felt for each other, he was my father, and I was his son. We were family. And he was not a murderer.

No. This was a different kind of fear entirely.

This was a fear that burned like a fire within me, so strongly that it consumed the entire world. It was a fear that made everything vanish apart from myself and those three black pits of hatred and doom. This was a fear that made me feel as if someone had torn out my insides, as if my throat was strangling me, as if everything, everything in the entire world was willing to destroy me.

It was not that I was afraid that I might die.

I was afraid because I knew that I would.

There was no hope, no chance of salvation or rescue. I was a skinny six-year-old boy, unarmed except for a short stick. I would die. There was no question.

There would be no mercy. Only death. A cruel, painful death.

But there are times when all sense leaves a mortal. Times when the mind gives way to the body. Times when a mortal suddenly loses everything that makes them who they are, and all that is left is instinct.

The instinct of prey.

Prey live by a simple rule. Fight or flight.

The troll exploded from its lair. Its mouth opened. Its savage, brutal roar that ripped the world in two, and saliva dripped from its fangs. Its gaze drifted over us, and I could have sworn that it smiled, a smile of pure malevolent greed.

We could not fight it.

And so, as one, we turned and ran.

The world was gone, and everything had ended. There was nothing in the world except running. Running for our lives. I was dimly aware of my feet pounding on the ground, my heart racing within my chest, branches and brambles whipping into my face as I ran, like cruel hands trying to catch me, to slow me down. I could see Henja out of the corner of my eye, her hair flying out behind her, sobbing with terror as she, too, ran. And behind us both, there was a heavy, thumping noise, and a snarling, a vicious snarling that slowly grew louder, and louder still.

Lumbering, slow, mindless beast as it was, it was gaining on us.

It would catch us. It would catch us both. Its claws would slice into our flesh and its fists would crush our bones and its fangs would sink into our heart and wipe out our lives forever and ever and ever and ever and ever-

As if we had never even existed-

As if Gallus Desidenius and Henja Snow-Walker had been simply tiny, insignificant, meaningless specks of life, that had existed for a single second before being destroyed-

As if we had been embers at the edge of a raging fire that had been blown out by a gust of icy wind only moments after we had begun to glow-

As if we had been nothing but minute islands in the ocean of time, rising above the foam for a heartbeat before being dragged under once more by the crashing waves-

As if we had been as worthless as skeevers, scuttling around in the shadows only to be crushed-

_Skeevers._

It struck my mind like a blow from a warhammer. The realisation. And it was as if a fire had begun to burn inside my mind, as if my body had suddenly given way to my brain, as if instinct had been replaced by reason at last-

There was still hope.

Yet again, I was a skeever. And this time I was facing a real troll.

Strength could not save me. Speed could not save me. But sense could.

Sense and wit.

And all my wisdom- what little wisdom a six-year-old can have- came flooding back to me.

I reached out and grasped Henja's hand. She screamed, trying to pull away, but I held firm. She looked at me, and I saw relief spark in her eyes as she realised I was not the troll-

_That's right, Henja, _I thought. _Hope. Have hope._

'Henja,' I shouted, over the sound of the troll's grunting and our pounding feet. 'Do you trust me?'

She said nothing. But she nodded.

And so I started to change direction.

Through the trees, over the stream, past the ivy-encrusted pines, towards the glow I remembered-

The glow I recognised-

The glow that was our only hope-

We kept running. The trees were thinning. We must be nearly there. The troll had been slowed by its awkward, loping gait, and the thick trees, but soon it would be upon us, unless we could make it in time-

We had to make it-

We had to-

The Gods could not be so cruel-

And then suddenly the trees were gone, and we were running out onto a stretch of open ground. Open ground where a fire burned, a fire as tall as I was. Open ground where a huge, woolly creature with tusks as long as my father was tall raised its head and regarded us curiously with small, beady black eyes. Open ground where the most astounding being I had ever seen was standing, gazing into the flames-

'_Gallus, are you insane?!' _Henja more or less screeched the words. _'That's an honest-to-Talos giant!'_

'You said you trusted me!'

'I do!'

'Then prove it!'

We kept running. Past the fire. Past the mammoth. Past its titanic guardian-

The giant turned to look at us. Its eyes- Gods, I hadn't expected its eyes to look so human- seemed to stab us.

_Please, _I thought. _Let what I've read about them be true._

The giant raised its club. It lumbered forwards. It let out a guttural bellow that seemed to make the entire world quiver in fear.

I skidded to a stop.

I knew that this was the time. Our fates rested in the hands of the giant.

It had a simple choice. Kill us. Or save both our lives.

I squeezed Henja's hand, closed my eyes, and waited.

I heard the sound of the giant's club swinging towards us. I felt a gust of wind smash into my face as it came towards me.

There was a loud, crunching thump.

And Henja's hand was gone from mine.

My heart almost stopped.

I screamed her name, my eyes snapping open. And then my heart began beating again as I saw her, still standing next to me, eyes still wide, but this time from astonishment and delight, and not from fear.

And I saw the giant snort and lower its bloodstained club, as the troll was sent flying into the air.

For a moment, I saw its face. It seemed startled, stunned. And there was stark terror in its eyes.

In that moment, I knew that it was feeling the same fear that I had felt as it chased me. The fear that comes with the certainty of death.

But I only saw its face for a moment. A heartbeat later, it was sailing away into the sky, a limp brown shape spread-eagled against the brilliant blue heavens, its limbs flailing, a few specks of dark red blood dripping down onto the grass, like dew made of liquid rubies.

Its lifeblood soaked into the ground, and with it went my fear.

The giant stared down at us with large, ponderous eyes, gazing into our small, thrilled ones.

'Thank you,' I whispered.

It gave a low grunt and turned its back on us, slowly lumbering over to its mammoth herd with its club swung over it shoulder. But I am almost certain that I saw a glimmer of amused fondness in its expression before it plodded away.

Henja was still staring at it with wide eyes, and I reach out and took hold of her hand again. 'We should go,' I whispered.

She didn't need to be told twice. We did not run this time. Neither of us had any energy left to run. We had been running on fear, and now the fear had been replaced by pure exhaustion.

We trudged back into the woods, our sides still heaving from the effort of our flight. Not until we were halfway back to our glade did Henja finally summon the energy to speak.

'How did you know that the giant would help us?'

'I didn't know for sure. I hoped it would.' I shrugged. 'Giants always intrigued me even more than trolls. I read a book on them one that said they were misunderstood by most people. They're not vicious, and far more intelligent that we give them credit for. They don't attack unless attacked first, or unless a threat strays too near their camps.'

'We went right into its camp,' Henja pointed out.

'Look at it from the giant's point of view,' I told her. 'Two children come running into its camp. The giant herds mammoths, which are about twenty times our size. We couldn't hurt them if we tried. We weren't a threat to the giant or its herd. But then a troll comes after us. Unlike us, the troll's a predator, a savage, merciless killer. That's a threat if the giant ever saw one. And so it takes its club and sends the troll into orbit. But it couldn't care less about us.'

Henja grinned shakily. 'I will never, ever, _ever,_ say a bad word about all your scholar stuff again.' She stopped walking and turned to face me, and there was a sincerity in her eyes that I had never seen in her before. 'You saved my life, Gallus,' she whispered.

I felt myself turning red. 'Not really. It was the giant that-'

'And who led us to the giant?'

I said nothing.

'Gallus, if you hadn't thought of that, we'd both be troll food. I couldn't have saved us, but you did.'

I swallowed and tried to look away, but those sky-blue eyes held me firm. 'Thank you,' Henja said softly.

She hugged me in the way that only a best friend can hug you. In the way that makes you feel happy and comforted and hopeful and protected all at the same time.

'No matter what happens to us, I'll never forget this,' she whispered, 'I'll be your friend forever, Gallus.'

I smiled in a way that I had never known it was possible for me to smile. It was a smile showed not only on my face but in my eyes, in my entire body, filling me with warmth. And when I spoke my reply, I meant it with every last part of my heart and mind and soul.

'And I'll always be yours.'

* * *

I was late home. I knew it already. My legs felt as if they were made of lead, and I had not been able to manage anything more than a stumbling walk back to my house. The encounter with the troll had sucked all of my strength from me.

I hoped with all my heart that my father would not yet have returned. I did not want to face the inevitable questions that would come if he had. Nor the pain that might well accompany those questions.

Things had become better since I had met Henja. Perhaps it was because I was spending so much time away from home, and therefore away from him. Perhaps it was because she had brought out some of my inner strength. Perhaps it was because I had become wiser since I had met her. I could not say. But my beatings had become less frequent, and several times I had been able to hold a conversation with him without either of our voices rising in anger. Indeed, I was beginning to harbour hopes, however slim, that as time passed, we would no longer be enemies.

I did not want to destroy those hopes.

Hope is a strange emotion. A granted hope is one of the best feelings that the heart of a mortal can hold. But a false hope is the cruellest thing imaginable.

I swallowed, summoned my never, and pushed open the door.

Pushed it open to reveal my father standing behind it. Eyes narrowed. Hands on his hips. Waiting.

I almost turned and ran. But I had –however indirectly- slain a troll that day. And some of the courage I had found then was still with me.

And so I looked up and met those eyes.

'Father,' I said quietly.

His hand flashed out, grasping hold of the neck of my tunic. Though I pulled backwards, he held me tightly, and there was no escape.

His voice was low, but somehow that made it all the worse. The words were so much more menacing spoken softly. In that moment, he could not be compared to a troll, that blundering, stupid, beast. He was more like a snake, striking from the darkness where his fangs could not be seen coming.

'Where the Oblivion,' he snarled, 'have you been?'

I closed my eyes.

Once again, I was a skeever. And I had blundered straight into a trap.


	5. Choices

CHAPTER FOUR

There are moments in our lives when we all have to make choices. Choices, perhaps, that we would rather not have to make, that we would give anything to hide from. Choices that decide where the path of our life takes us. Choices that determine our fates, our futures… maybe even our destinies.

These are the choices that change everything. The choices that decide who we become. These are the choices that reveal to us who we really are.

We all hope to make the right choices, in these times when we are forced to make them. There are times when we will not. We will walk the wrong path, a path that leads to danger and destruction and mortal peril. Sometimes, we will walk too far down that path to ever hope to return.

There are other times when the right choice will be made, when we shall choose a path that takes us to happiness and hope.

There will be other times when you cannot see a choice at all. You can only blunder forwards into darkness, hoping that you shall see a light.

Choices are strange things. We make them constantly, often without even realising that we are making them. Sometimes we choose what is best for another, sometimes what is best for ourselves. Sometimes we choose something without knowing why we choose it. Sometimes we cannot choose at all. And yet these hastily made choices, these choices that we cannot understand, are the choices that determine our destinies.

I made such a choice that day. Indeed, I made several such choices.

And though I rued my decisions at the time, when I look back on them now, I do not regret a single one.

In fact, I am proud.

Because the choices I made that day, and in the days that followed, made me who I am.

A fighter.

And a thief.

* * *

The first choice was made as I met those cold grey eyes, as I looked into that face of fury, and felt my heart turn cold. Cold as ice.

Suddenly, I was beyond caring. He could hurt me as much as he wished. But he could not and would not crush my spirit. No matter what he did to me.

And I was sick of it. Of all of it. Of simply accepting that he was my master. Of the hiding and the weeping, the pain and the hatred.

I would hide no longer.

I would take it no longer.

I would fight.

'Well?' His snarl was twisted, warped with rage. 'Where have you been?'

I looked into those icy grey depths without flinching or blinking.

And I made my decision.

'Out,' I snapped.

He stared at me in disbelief. I stared back. Coolly, coldly, calmly, fearlessly.

I could see his amazement, his surprise that I had finally talked back to him. I could see his incredulous fury, growing like a fire in those stony eyes.

But I did not fear him. I did not care what he did to me.

He could shatter my body and break my bones. But my spirit was free, and my heart was strong.

His arm swung towards me. He struck me with the flat of his hand, not his fist, but the impact still sent pain shooting up my face and made stars explode inside my mind. Any other time, I would have let the blow fell me, let him knock me off my feet and onto the floor. I always let him. It made it end sooner. Made him believe he had won.

But he could not win. And I had had enough of making him think that he could.

And so, as his blow struck home, I stood firm. I did not fall. I staggered, but I remained standing. I did not even raise my hand to my face, did not try to block out the pain. I let it course through me, let the agony strengthen me. I drank it in, and let it make my heart harder still.

My father towered over me, his jaw clenched. 'I said, where have you been?'

I felt my lip curling in derision, an emotion I had never encountered within me before. 'Why do you want to know? Don't tell me it's because you care about me.'

He gaped for a moment, then struck me again, this time with his fist, with twice the strength of the previous blow. I readied myself, but this time I was unable to stay standing. I hit the floor, face first. The whole world was whirling around me, and as I raised my head, I felt a sharp, stinging pain on my cheek. I pressed my fingers to it, and brought them away smeared with blood.

Now his rage was matched with my own.

And so I did something that out of all the times he had knocked me to the ground, I had never done before.

I clenched my fists, narrowed my eyes, and picked myself up.

I got back on my feet and faced him, all my hatred and loathing burning in my eyes.

'I know you don't care where I've been,' I told him, and my voice, soft with youth though it was, contained just as much anger as his own. 'I know you don't care about me at all. Well, I don't care that you don't care. You may be my father, but I've never been your son.'

He raised his hand again, and I let out a short bark of mirthless, almost hysterical laughter. 'Go on, then! Keep hitting me. Like that's going to stop me from hating you.'

He hesitated, and I knew that I had won.

I had never fought back before. Never. And now, he did not know what to do.

Even the few times I had answered back, a kick, a strike, even just a few bellowed words, would be enough to silence me. But now, my blood was up. Henja's friendship, and the events of the day I had just been through, had brought out the fighter in me, and I refused to be crushed.

Never before had I refused to submit. And now that I had, he did not know how to react. If I failed to succumb to a beating, then how could he make me succumb?

I knew that each of us knew what the other was thinking, because we were both thinking the same thing.

He had no control over me.

None.

'Well, how about that?' I smiled through the pain, triumph glowing within me. _'I win.'_

He let out a roar, a roar of pure, unbound rage. His hands were suddenly around my throat, and he was yanking me off my feet and slamming me against the wall. I cried out, gasping for air. I writhed and struggled, but I could not break free, no matter how hard I kicked and fought.

'Do you know what stops me from throwing you out of the door of this house right here and right now?' he snarled, his face red with wrath. 'One thing. Perdita told me to look after you.' He let out a bark of bitter, mirthless laughter. 'If it weren't for that, you'd have been in the Honourhall a long time ago.'

I felt my foot connect with his shin, but he did not release me. 'They'd probably treat me better there,' I choked out.

He brought his hands away, and I fell to the floor. This time, I was slower to get up, needing to pull myself to my feet with the wall in order to stand.

'You've never shown a scrap of gratitude.' My father's face was twisted with disgust. 'Who feed you and clothes you and gives you a place to live? I do. And you've never been grateful.'

'I've never been grateful to the man who uses any excuse to use me as a training dummy,' I spat. 'And why should I be?'

'I will not be spoken to like that!'

'Tough, because I'm speaking to you like this!' We were shouting now, our voices ringing through the house, both of us trembling with rage. 'You just hate me without any reason-'

'You've got your mother's eyes!'

There was a sudden silence. It fell without warning, as if the Divines had reached out with their hands and torn all the world's sound away.

Finally, I found my tongue. 'What?'

'You have your mother's eyes.' He spoke the words in a low hiss. 'You don't even know how much like her you are.'

I felt myself frowning. 'But if I'm like her, why do you hate me so much? You loved her.'

He glared at me for a few seconds, still shaking, his eyes glinting. 'I don't have to justify myself to you,' he growled finally.

'Why not? Don't I have the right to know why you wish your own son had never been born?'

'You damned insolent whelp-'

'Father?'

We both spun around sharply. Prosperus was standing at the other end of the hallway, his brow creased, and confusion written all over his face. I had never been so glad to see my brother in my entire life.

My father held me in his furious gaze for a moment longer. Then he turned away. 'What is it, son?'

I did not miss the fact that the word _son _was slightly emphasised, and I felt my blood boiling. He had never once used that word to me. Since my mother died, he had never once called me by my name.

Prosperus looked between the two of us for a moment, then hesitantly held up a large, leather-bound book. 'I was wondering if you could help me with something in this, about the Aldmeri Dominion, but if you're too busy…'

_Too busy trying to murder me? _I thought dryly, and was instantly sorry. I loathed him with every drop of blood in my veins, but I knew that he was no killer.

'I'm coming.' My father nodded to him, then bent down and hissed in my ear. 'You'd better start learning your place and watching your tongue. Or-'

'Or what? You'll turn me out?' I snorted. 'That would be the day.'

His eyes blazed into mine. 'For once, I agree with you.'

He turned his back and stormed away.

* * *

Snow was covering the ground in a thick, white blanket, one that I sank into with every stride. More was falling from the sky, dancing through the heavens and settling in my hair. The wind was cold, and I shuddered, wishing that I had had the foresight to bring a coat with me. This winter was one of the harshest we had ever faced yet. The rivers were frozen, the branches of the trees were laden with jagged icicles, and hardly a day had passed since the beginning of Evening Star when the skies had not showered us with either snow or hail. For once, no birds, deer or rabbits took startled flight as I battled my way through the driving snow and wind. Any animals with an ounce of sense were taking shelter- something that I was not doing.

I was half frozen. My fingers were so numb I could barely feel them, and I was shaking like a leaf in the wind, but still I struggled on. I had to get to the glade. Even if usually I would have stayed at home on a day like this, today, I had to be there. I had promised Henja. And I had promised myself.

Because I was worried about her. So worried.

The winter's harshness had hit her family harder than a blow from a giant's club. Their crops were failing. They were struggling to get by. Their money was slowly dwindling. Henja had told me that for the first time in her life, she was not getting enough to eat. Almost all of what little food their farm managed to yield was sold.

My family was unaffected. But Henja's was growing slowly poorer with every day that passed.

And I was desperately, desperately worried.

Part of that fear was for myself. If the situation did not improve, the Snow-Walkers might well have to sell their home and move away. And I knew that I would not be able to bear it if that were to happen. Henja was the greatest and only friend I had. Even Marcella did not understand me the way the Nord girl did. My sister did not accompany into the woods to fight the battered dead tree that doubled as a dragon, bandit, troll and Thalmor agent. She did not talk with me about myths and monsters. She was my sister, the only member of my family I loved, and she was my confidant and my comfort, but Henja was my strength and my spirit. I needed her friendship. Now I had known what it was to have a friend, I could not return to my old way of living. I could not understand how I had ever managed before.

And if she were to leave, I would be completely alone.

But most of that fear was for her. I could not stand the thought of her and her family forced to survive in the wilds of Skyrim. The knowledge that they were slowly starving and I could do nothing to help was torture. Pure torture.

I emerged from the gap in the trees, but to my surprise, the clearing was empty. Henja was not sitting as she always did, on the tree trunk, overlooking the frozen stream. Perhaps I had arrived before her? Had farm work kept her at home?

'Gallus! Up here!'

Startled, I glanced upwards, and grinned. Henja was crouching on the branch of a large pine tree, beaming down at me, her hair streaked with snowflakes. I grabbed hold of a branch and began hauling myself up. I had never been a great enthusiast for heights- I still loathe them even now- but I was all right with climbing trees. Henja had taught me how to climb them safely, and I knew that if I were to fall, she'd be there to catch me.

Because that was what she did. If I got lost in the woods, she'd come looking for me. If I was shivering with cold from the biting wind and swirling snow, she would shrug of her cloak and lend it to me, insisting that her Nord blood kept her warm. If I turned up with a new cut or bruise from another rage-filled encounter with my father, she would always be there to help me clean my wounds and let my cry on her shoulder.

And whenever she needed help, I would give it to her as best as I could in return. Because- and no matter how cliché it sounds, this is the truth and I will say it- that is what friends are supposed to do, and we were true friends.

And that was why I was so determined to help her in any way I could.

'You get more shelter up here,' Henja told me, pulling me up beside her. 'I've really been living up to my family name this winter!'

She laughed, and I laughed along, though my insides twisted. 'How are things? With your family?'

Her face grew grim. 'No better.'

I winced. 'Isn't there anything I can do?'

She shook her head. 'You'd just get in trouble with your father. You've already gone through too much because of me.'

I subconsciously reached up to the cut on my cheek that had still not healed from the day he had thrown me to the floor. In my heart, I knew that it never would, that I would have a lasting scar as a constant reminder of his rage and my helplessness.

'Henja, you know I'll do anything I can to help you-'

'Gallus, no.' There was anguish in her eyes as she shook her head, sending snow flying. 'I've not got any right to get you into trouble.'

I frowned. 'You do. You're my friend.'

We were silent for a moment, sitting on the branch, watching the snow fall around us. Any other day, we would have been dashing through the trees, laughing and smiling as we hurled snowballs at each other. But there was an unspoken melancholy feeling hanging over us both, and neither of us had the spirit.

There had to be something I could do. It wasn't fair that Henja and her family should struggle so much to get by when we had everything we wanted and needed, and more. Where was the justice? And what sort of a friend was I if I couldn't even help?

Choices. All the time, choices. Constantly being made, even when we do not realise that we are making them. Always guiding us, leading us, determining the paths of our fates…

There are times, though, when you do realise that you are making a choice. You have time to hold it in your mind, to search through it, unearth all your options, and decide what is the right thing to do, which is the right road to walk. If you can.

I made one such decision then.

My decision was this.

Henja was my greatest and only friend. I owed her so much. I valued her friendship too highly to let her and her family struggle, suffer and starve while I did not.

When our friends are in need, and we are called to help them, that is when we discover who we truly are, what lies within our hearts. Whether we choose them over ourselves, or our own desires over them, is what reveals to us what sort of a person we are, deep down inside.

I looked into those sky-blue eyes, and I made my choice.

'Henja,' I said quietly. 'Do you still trust me?'

She nodded sincerely. 'Of course.'

I bit my lip and dipped my head. 'Then… keep trusting me, okay?'

She frowned. 'What are you planning? You've got that look.'

'What look?'

'Your _I've got a plan, aren't I clever_ look.' She was grinning that infuriating grin.

'I don't have one!' I protested indignantly.

'You do, because it's all over your face right now.'

'No, I mean I don't have a plan.' I chewed my lip. 'But I do have an idea.'

Henja looked at me in concern. 'Gallus, promise me not to do anything stupid, or dangerous. Or anything that might make your father angry.'

I looked into her eyes. 'No. The only thing I'm promising is that I will help you, no matter what.'

'Gallus, you can't do anything that might hurt you because of me. Promise me you won't. You can't.'

'I can't promise you that, Henja. Because I don't break my promises. You know that.' I folded my arms. 'And that's a promise I might not be able to keep.'

* * *

The simple truth was that I was terrified.

And not only that. I was ashamed of myself, utterly ashamed. I was afraid, furious with myself, and uncertain in absolutely every possible way about what I was about to do.

But I had no choice. No matter what it meant for me, or for my family, Henja was my friend, and she was relying on me. I was the only one who could help her, and if I let her down now, I knew that I would never be able to live with myself again. To fail a friend was unforgivable.

And I had made her a promise that I would help her.

And I never broke my promises. Not if I could help it.

Even if this was wrong, even if I would never usually have done something like this in a thousand years… then I was doing it for Henja. And that made it right.

I had no other option. I had to do this. For the sake of my one and only friend.

I turned my head from side to side, glancing all around me. No one in sight. My father was at yet another important meeting, and Jaila was with him. Marcella and Prosperus were both in their rooms, buried in ancient tomes. Rhaynas was asleep again, and would be for some hours, unless he was awoken. I had as much time as I needed.

Still, I would have to be as quick as possible. That way, I would arouse less suspicion, and reduce my chances of anyone finding me.

I took a deep breath, and placed my hand on the handle of the door to my father's study. The one place in our home that I was forbidden to enter. The place that anyone who was not my father was forbidden to enter. Even Rhaynas could not go in to clean up the place. Only my father had ever seen inside. He kept it locked at all times, and he kept the key on a steel chain around his neck.

I would normally never have dared to enter there. But today… everything was different.

I pushed the door. It shook slightly, but otherwise did not stir. I had not expected it to.

I drew in a deep breath, and pulled my makeshift lockpick from my pocket.

I had fashioned it from one of Marcella's hairpins, and though it was twisted and bent, I was reasonably certain that it would do the job. I had read every book I could find on the subject of opening a locked door without a key, and I was feeling fairly confident. Still, my heart was racing faster than a galloping horse, and my hands were shaking as I lifted my pick and slid it into the lock.

_Calm down, _I told myself firmly. _Relax. Nobody is going to catch you. You can do this. And this is for Henja, remember?_

I nodded slowly. Yes. This was for Henja. I had to do this.

I had to.

Very carefully, I started to twist the pick around, trying to find the right position. Several times, it shuddered and scraped against the metal of the lock, and I winced, fearing that it would snap. But I was in luck. It held firm, quivering and occasionally buckling a little but staying true. Carefully, I eased it into position, until finally I felt it slip into place. A grin spread across my face as I began to twist the pick to the side, slowly turning the lock. It trembled slightly, but as I turned it in a full circle, there was a low, almost inaudible click, and the lock slid back.

I gave a gasp of triumph. I had not expected to succeed. But succeed I had, and now I had to get into that room and out of it as fast as I could. I pushed open the door, slipped through it, and shut it again behind me. Only once it was closed did I turn around and take in the scene around me for the first time.

I was not the least bit surprised to see books lying in every corner; stacked on shelves, covering desks, propped up against the walls. I glanced at a few of their titles. _Kolb and the Dragon. Nightingales- Fact or Fiction? Ahzirr Traajijazeri. A Kiss, Sweet Mother. Dragon Language- Myth No More. The Lusty Argonian Maid. A Brief History of the Empire, Volume 4. _

I grinned. 'So brief that it needs four volumes,' I muttered.

Turning slowly on the spot, I surveyed the rest of the room. I couldn't help but wish that I could grab a handful of books and disappear into my room to read them, but that was not what I was there for. Interesting as most of these tomes seemed, I didn't have the time for study now.

No. There was only one thing I had time for. And that was the strongbox balanced on top of the bookshelf.

I had seen my father place purses of gold in it sometimes, then return it to the forbidden room. I knew that it held money. More money than I had ever seen or held in my entire life. So much that my father would certainly not miss a few Septim if they went missing.

I knew that that I was taking an enormous- not to mention foolish- risk. But this was for Henja. And I had to see this through.

The top of the shelf was too high for me to reach. There was a small stool lying beside it, probably one my father stood on in order to get to the strongbox- but even balancing on that, I knew that I would be unable to reach it. There was no ladder in sight- but I knew from my tree-climbing lessons from Henja that there was more than one way to reach a high-up place.

Carefully, I placed one foot on the lowest shelf, taking care not to knock off any of the books. I reached up to the next shelf, and then to the next one, slowly clambering up it as if it were a ladder. Finally, I managed to lift the strongbox from its place, and jump back down onto the floor.

I had not expected it to be open, and once again, I was proved correct. It was not. That meant another heart-stopping couple of minutes struggling with the lock, twisting the hairpin this way and that, and all the time desperately listening out for any noise that might signal the approach of a member of my family. At long last, the box clicked open, and I prised open the lid.

The smile returned to my face. I had been right. It was filled to the brim with gold- so much gold that the reflection of the sunlight on it almost blinded me for a moment. I stood staring dazedly at it, an ecstatic feeling rising up within me. I had never laid eyes on such wealth before.

My father would never miss a small amount.

And as I looked on that gold, I felt my fears melt away. Suddenly, I found myself thinking that all of this had been worth it- if just for the sake of the exhilarated, almost electrified feeling running through my blood. The sheer excitement of defying my father so openly and so boldly, of breaking every rule and law I knew, of taking this risk… it was the most amazing feeling I had ever experienced. A thrill like nothing else.

I tore my eyes away from the heaps of coins and pulled a small coin purse from my pocket. It took only a few seconds to tip some of the gold inside it- enough to last for a while, and buy Henja's family a few solid meals, yet not so much that my father would notice. I drew the strings of the purse shut, re-locked the strongbox (which was far easier than unlocking it, to my extreme annoyance) and replaced it on the bookshelf. Tucking the purse back into my tunic, I made for the door, sneaking back into the corridor and pulling it shut. A few simple twists with the lockpick, and my mission was complete. I had achieved my goal, and left no signs that I had ever been there.

I had succeeded. The mere thought was enough to make me leap up and punch the air with a quiet cheer. No matter what I had to do, I would see Henja's family through the winter. In any way I had to.

And even though I knew that what I had done was wrong, that it went against every rule I had ever been taught, I could not supress the elated feeling within me. My entire body was trembling with excitement. I could hardly believe I had ever feared my task.

I had stolen. Stolen for the first time in my life. And it had been the most amazing thing I had ever done.

There was something in me that told me that this first time would definitely not be the last.

* * *

**And so Gallus became a thief… **

**So, hope you liked this chapter! The next time will probably be some time in coming, because of Christmas and so on, but I promise to write as fast as I can once everything's over. Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it, and to those who don't, enjoy the season anyway, and have fun! See you next chapter. Bye for now!**


	6. Unseen

CHAPTER FIVE

A thief is an invisible mortal.

They hide in the shadows of the night, living and dying in their darkness. They hide in the night, silent and unseen. Blending in with their surroundings, keeping to the cover of the dark. Unnoticed, until it is too late.

The thief trusts no one except for themselves and their fellow thieves. They are survivors at all costs.

And so the way of the thief came as naturally to me as flying does to an eagle, or hunting does to a wolf.

I was used to hiding. I was used to keeping myself unseen. I was used to resorting to desperate measures to get by. And I was used to surviving, to keeping myself going in any way I could.

And I was a fast learner.

I learned the skills and tricks and talents I needed as if I had always known them, as if the knowledge had been lying dormant in the back of my mind, waiting to be awakened. Every mistake I made, and every successful theft I accomplished, I picked up something new. And my brain drank in the information greedily, processing it like lightning, linking it to what I already knew, and passing on new skills to my body.

I learned how to listen for the tell-tale scraps and clicks that told me that I had slid my lockpick into the right position. I knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure to make it open the door without snapping in two. I worked out how to blend in with the darkness, hiding in plain sight. I learned to walk silently, placing my weight on the balls of my feet, breathing softly as I could, rolling my feet forwards from the heel, until I could move with a fluid, noiseless movement, as stealthily as a cat.

Some of what I learned, of course, I picked up from the books that I devoured daily, in a never-ending search for new skills. But mostly, it came from experience, and endless practice.

As time went by, I no longer limited myself to breaking into my father's study, or slipping my hand into Prosperus's coin purse, or quietly going through the contents of Rhaynas's bag as he lay asleep. I grew bolder, more daring. The merchant caravans that passed by our house would, on occasion, become my targets. At first, I would simply sneak up behind them and swipe something from their carts whilst their backs were turned. But more and more, I relied on my wits. I would place a stone in their paths, so that their wagon's wheel would break and they would be forced to stop. When they started moving again, their pockets would be empty, and their load far lighter than before. I had other tricks too, each as devious and risky as the last.

I knew that I could have found some other way to help Henja. But once I had stolen once, I could not stop myself. I simply had to steal again. I did it for the rush of adrenaline, the exhilaration that pounded through my veins, the challenge and the excitement. When I stole, when I broke every one of my father's rules and disobeyed his every order, it was as if something within me was breaking free.

It made me feel alive.

All through that winter, I stole again and again, taking my spoils to Henja. But deep within me, I knew with an ashamed certainty that it was not just for my friend's sake that I was doing it. Part of it was for me. I had started to need that rush of thrilled excitement, the ecstatic joy that came with the danger and the challenge.

Never once was I caught. I played my game carefully, and I learned quickly.

Of course, proud of my efforts and my success as I was, there were others who thought differently. It is something you have to come to terms with, if the life you live is that of the thief, that not everyone will accept the fact that it is your life to lead, your path to walk, your journey to take, your decision to make. There will always be people who do not appreciate that every mortal must make their own choices, and that if the life of a thief is the life that you choose, that choice should be respected. If you are an honourable thief, with dignity, with integrity, with a code, then that choice cannot be disputed. But some will never be able to accept that. To them, no thief can have honour.

My advice to you if you should ever experience this is simple. If you find that another does not respect your choices in life, then pay them no heed. These are your choices, and not theirs. They have no say in how you live your life. What they think does not matter in the slightest. They are not you.

That is one of the many philosophies I have always lived by. I have many, but that is one of the most important of all.

I have allowed my mind to wander again. Forgive me.

But as I was saying, before I strayed from my point… the role of the many thieves of Tamriel is one often unappreciated. The part we play in the stability of the land is enormous, and yet unseen. And not everyone understands how vital we are, nor the fact that the honourable thief is not evil. Sometimes, if you approach it with honour, stealing can be the right thing to do.

Not everyone acknowledges this simple fact. And to begin with, Henja didn't. I knew that she hated the knowledge that I was stealing so that she might survive. It went against everything in her nature to let me do it. She only allowed me to for the sake of her family's survival. She had said as much the first time I took her the fruits of my labours.

'Gallus, where did you get this?' she had asked. 'Kids like us don't have this much money.'

I had swallowed, unable to meet her gaze. 'I got it from… from my father.'

Those sky-blue eyes had narrowed in suspicion and confusion. 'You mean he gave it to you?'

I shook my head awkwardly, looking at the snow-covered ground. 'Not really.'

Her gasp had made me wince. 'Sweet Talos, Gallus! You stole it?'

I had considered trying to dodge the question, but something made me summon up my courage and nod. Though I had been unable to speak, the simple movement had told Henja everything.

'I can't take stolen money, Gallus! That's not right!'

'Why not?'

'It just isn't! It's not honourable!'

'Henja, you need it. Your family will die-'

'We'll manage somehow!' Despite her protests, I could see on her face that she knew I was right.

'But you need it more than my father does. A thousand times more.'

'Yes, but you stole it, Gallus. I can't take it. I just can't.'

'You have to. What other option do you have?'

She had fallen silent, and I knew that we were both thinking the same thing. _Starve._

Finally, her hand had reached out and taken the purse. 'All right. Thank you for doing this for me, Gallus. But you can't do it again.'

'Henja. I have to.'

'Gods, Gallus, no! You can't take other people's things because I need them!'

'Yes, I can. And I will.'

'Gallus-'

'Henja. A few hundred Septim isn't enough to keep you alive. I promised I'd help, and I'm going to.'

'You have helped, but… you helped the wrong way. You can't steal from your father.'

'I already did. And I'll do it again if I have to.'

She gave up eventually. I think she could see from the determination on my face that I was not going to be dissuaded.

She needed what I gave her. We both knew it. And the only way I could get it was to steal.

She didn't like it. But she understood that neither of us had any choice.

The winter drew on. The snow deepened, and the sky became white as ivory. But then the day came when I awoke to feel a change in the air. When I made my way through the snow, it melted under my feet instead of dragging me down. Water dripped from the ends of branches, and icicles fell from trees like bolts fired from crossbows, shattering as they hit the ground. Birds sang in the cover of the frosted leaves. Turning my gaze to the horizon, I could see water breaking free of the ice, starting to flow down the mountains in sparkling streams that looked like liquid diamond in the light of the sun that was beginning to break through the thick cover of cloud.

Spring had come at last.

As the days passed, the snow began to melt, and soon the first rain for months started to pour from the heavens, washing the last of the whiteness away. Deer and rabbits began to run through the woods once more, flowers pushed their way out of the earth, spreading colour over the land, and the trees turned from brown to pink to lush, pale green. The days grew warmer and longer, the nights shorter and dryer, and finally the day came when we woke up to find that for the first time in months, the grass was not frozen stiff with frost.

Henja's family were still struggling. But every day, they needed my help less and less. I didn't know whether Henja had told them that I was the one helping them. What I did know was that soon, they would no longer need the rewards I had reaped from my crimes.

I was strangely disappointed. Of course I was glad that Henja was no longer in any danger. But if she no longer needed food and money and clothes, then she no longer needed me to steal.

And I didn't think I could stop. It was just too amazing for me to stop. I loved it, the feeling of my skin prickling with the anticipation of danger, the sound of my heart thumping, the burst of delighted joy whenever I succeeded. The risk, the challenge, the excitement… now I had experienced those feelings, I could not live without them. I began to need them in the same way that a warrior needs to fight, or a mage needs to cast spells, or an assassin needs to kill.

Indeed, you might even say that I became something of a kleptomaniac. Someone who stole, who possessed an urge and a need to steal, through no thoughts of economic gain. I just simply had to steal.

Please, don't think that I had allowed my mind to become unhinged. The truth is that all my life, I had been downtrodden and oppressed. Stealing set me free in a way nothing else did. Even if it was just a single Septim, it helped me. Even though it made my heart race and my breathing quicken, it calmed me. It was almost a kind of therapy.

And so, even after Henja no longer needed me to, I carried on.

Of course, even then, I set rules for myself. I was never to cause lasting harm, never take too much. I must never arouse any suspicion. I had to stay careful, cover my tracks, give no one any reason to suspect me.

But as the tension over my life was lifted, as Henja and I battled our dead tree in the woods, as I picked locks and pockets and crept around in the shadows, as the spring grew deeper and brighter, I failed to see something.

I missed the signs. I let something happen that I should never have let happen.

Each and every event of that day is burned into my memory, as if someone carved them in my head with a chisel. It was the day that everything changed for me, the day that my life was shattered into pieces. It was the day I made a choice.

But it was also the day that made me who I am.

And even if my heart was broken, then it set my feet on the path that led me to where I am now.

And so I, if I had the power to change what happened, I would not. Not for the world.

* * *

I opened the book with a trembling hand. It contained only a few lines of writing, writing in a loopy, curling script. I swallowed, and forced myself to read them.

_So you wish to summon the Dark Brotherhood? You wish to see someone dead? Pray, child. Pray, and let the Night Mother hear your plea. You must perform that most profane of rituals - the Black Sacrament._

I shivered, almost letting the book drop from my hands. For months, I had been trying to summon the courage to take this book from my father's shelf, and now I was already having doubts. Did I really want to discover how someone called for death to visit my mother?

But I wanted to understand. I had to understand. I needed to understand. I simply had to know why my life had become like this, with a dead mother and a soulless father.

_Create an effigy of the intended victim, assembled from actual body parts, including a heart, skull, bones, and flesh. Encircle that effigy with candles._

A wave of revulsion swept over me, and I clenched my teeth as I wondered if I was about to bring up my breakfast. I waited a moment for the nausea to subside and continued reading.

_The ritual itself must then commence. Proceed to stab the effigy repeatedly with a dagger rubbed with the petals of a Nightshade plant while whispering this plea..._

I knew the words. Everyone knew the words. But few ever used them. Few ever dared. And yet, somewhere, sometime, someone had spoken these words, and they had called the wrath of Sithis down upon my mother. My mother, sweet, kind, gentle and warm-hearted. My mother, who had never done any harm to anyone.

I whispered the words in a soft, shaking voice.

'Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.'

The very words sounded evil. I shuddered. These words had sealed my mother's fate.

_Then wait, child, for the Dread Father Sithis rewards the patient. You will be visited by the by a representative of the Dark Brotherhood. So begins a contract bound in blood._

For a few moments, I sat staring at the page. Then I got to my feet and replaced the book on the shelf, fighting back tears of grief and rage.

Why would anyone want to do that? Why would anyone ever have wanted to have my mother killed? How could anyone hate her enough to have this done to her?

I turned my back and slowly walked out of the room. I opened the door, closed it and locked it behind me, and turned to go back to my room.

And found myself staring into a pair of slate-coloured eyes.

I heard my own gasp echo in the air, and felt my whole body tensing in preparation to run. I had been caught, discovered, even after all my wariness and caution. I had only wanted to read a book. But now I would pay the price for my curiosity.

'I thought as much.' The words were quiet, and yet they seemed louder than the crash of thunder.

I looked at the floor. 'How long have you known?'

'I never knew, but I suspected.'

I swallowed hard. 'There is a reason.'

'I daresay there is. You're not the sort of person to do things without a reason.' A hand rested on my shoulder. 'Just be glad it was me that found you, not father.'

'You won't tell him, will you?'

Marcella let out a short, mirthless laugh. 'And let him pound you into the floor? Do you really think I'd do that?'

I shook my head.

'I thought not. Let's go outside.'

I nodded dumbly and followed her, my head hanging low. Words couldn't express my relief that it had been my sister, and not my father or my brother who had found me, but even so, I should never have been found at all. I had put myself- and Henja- in terrible danger. For a single instant then, I hated myself for allowing this to happen.

But what could I have done? There hadn't been any way of telling that Marcella was waiting for me. And hadn't I been careful? I'd always done my best to cover my tracks and remain unseen and unnoticed. How could I have prevented this from happening?

Well, whether I could or couldn't have stopped this, she had found me now. And I would have to face up to the consequences.

My sister and I sat down on the same rock we had seated ourselves on all those months ago, when she had spoken to me about not angering my father. Now I could feel that a conversation that would be both very similar and incredibly different was coming our way.

'Am I going to have to ask you what you were doing in father's study, or are you going to tell me?'

'I was reading,' I said quietly, looking at the ground.

'Really? You made yourself a lockpick and broke into his private office just to take a look at his books?'

I felt a flash of resentment. 'I was trying to work out why someone did the Black Sacrament. For our mother. He had a book.'

Of course he'd had a book. He must have wanted to work out why she was gone as much as I did.

Marcella looked at me with a mixture of sympathy, love, confusion and suspicion in her eyes. 'By the Eight, Gallus, of course I understand that. But you picked that lock like a professional. I was watching.'

'Thank you,' I said, suddenly re-discovering the ability to smile.

My sister laughed. 'That wasn't meant to be a compliment! What I mean is that you've been doing this for a long time. And I don't think it's just been to get yourself some new reading material.'

I shuffled my feet. In recent weeks, it had been simply to get my hands on those books. There had been no point in taking anything, not when Henja and her family didn't need me to. But Marcella was right. In the beginning, it had been nothing to do with the books.

'It wasn't for me,' I mumbled. 'It's fun. I like doing it. But I didn't start for me.'

Marcella placed her arm on my shoulder, and I felt myself relaxing. 'Go on, Gallus. Tell me. I'm listening.'

I hesitated for a moment, biting my lip. 'I've… I've been stealing stuff. From father. Or from the merchants. Because Henja needs it.'

'Henja?' Marcella's brow creased in a confused frown.

'She's my friend,' I said quietly, pointing towards the distant blur of green that was the forest. 'Her family lives on the other side of the woods.'

I felt my sister stiffen. 'The Snow-Walker family?' she asked abruptly, a sudden edge to her voice.

I glanced up at her in surprise. 'What?' I asked defensively.

She sucked in a deep breath. 'Stendarr's mercy, Gallus. If father found out you were friends with Jornn Snow-Walker's daughter, he'd have you in the Honourhall before you could say 'skeever.''

I blinked in confusion. 'Why? Henja's nice. There's nothing wrong with her.'

Marcella sighed. 'It's not that there's anything wrong with the girl. It's because our family and her family have a long-standing feud. There was an argument over land years ago, and ever since then, Jornn Snow-Walker and our father have both been trying to bring down the other.'

Bitter, blind hatred for my father rose up within me, and as much as I tried to fight it down, I could not. 'I don't care what he thinks! Henja's my friend. And she's not her father any more than I am mine!'

'Gallus, I know. I don't think it's bad for you two to be friends. I've never met her, but if you say she's all right, I trust your judgement. But father can never find out.'

'I know that,' I snapped. 'That's why I had to steal the things, because he wouldn't give me them if I asked.'

'I still don't understand why you needed to take them.'

I gestured in the direction of Henja's home again. 'I didn't take much. Food, a bit of money. But she needed it, because the winter killed their crops. I had to help.'

'Help by breaking the law?' Marcella asked dryly.

I glared at her angrily. 'Henja's my _friend,' _I repeated. 'What else could I do?'

Marcella was quiet for a long moment. 'You could have spoken to me,' she told me gently. 'You know I'd have helped.'

I couldn't help but feel a little guilty as I realised that what she said was true. She would have helped me, in any way she could. Why had I not gone to her? Had I not trusted her? Had I thought that she would tell my father? Had I wanted to keep my friendship with Henja a secret so much that even my sister could not know? Or was it because I had so wanted to rebel against my father?

I struggled to make sense of my own thoughts, and did not reply.

We sat in silence for a moment, watching a drifting cloud of birds cover the shining, daffodil-yellow disc of the sun.

'Listen,' Marcella told me finally. 'Of course I'm not going to tell anyone about any of this. But you don't need to steal anything, Gallus. I can go to Falkreath and buy you food to take to your friend if needs be. But you can't take anything else that doesn't belong to you. It's not right.'

For the first time, I allowed a glimmer of doubt to spark inside me. What if she was right? Marcella and Henja were the best people I knew, the people I trusted above everyone else. And they both thought that what I had done was wrong. What if they were speaking the truth?

'Promise me you'll stop,' Marcella said softly. 'For your own sake.'

I found myself unable to speak. What could I say? I could not back out of this promise, not when it was Marcella, my beloved sister Marcella, who was asking me to make it. But what if I were forced to break it? What if I could not resist breaking it? How could I bear the shame of breaking my promise?

I _never _broke my promises.

My silence was my answer, and Marcella's agitation showed on her face. 'Gallus. Please, promise me that.'

I thought for a moment, and made my decision.

'I'll promise this,' I announced. 'I'll only steal when I have to, when I've got no other choice. I won't take any more than I need. I'll never take anything from anyone who can't afford to lose it. If I have to take something, then I'll do it with honour.' I looked up at her, and I felt older than I ever had before. 'I promise that.'

For a moment, she simply stared at me, then to my amazement, she burst out laughing. 'Divines above. Has anyone ever told you that you're the most infuriating, stubborn person who's ever set foot on Nirn?'

'You just did,' I pointed out, mirroring her smile.

She grinned and stood up. 'That's a good point. Listen, I can see that's the best I'm going to get, but I understand. You might have done something wrong, but it was with good intentions.'

'She's my friend. I had to help-'

'I said that I understood, and I'm not in the habit of lying.'

I clasped my hands together. 'Thanks.'

Marcella looked at me thoughtfully. 'Gallus, I am going to ask one thing…'

I groaned inwardly. 'Yes?'

'Can you take me to meet Henja?'

I blinked, surprised. 'Why?'

'For a start, I'm not happy with you sneaking off into the woods to meet her. I want to make sure you're going by a safe path. And I want to make sure she can be trusted.' Seeing my expression, she held up a hand. 'Don't look at me like that, I'm not accusing her of being a fanged serpent. I just want to meet her and be certain that you're safe, all right? I'm not asking to chaperone you every time you want to visit her, I just want to be sure that you're all right.'

I nodded slowly. I didn't like it. But I understood.

A few minutes later, Marcella was following me through the forest, and I was unable to stop myself from smiling at her expression. She had wandered down the road to Falkreath on occasion, but she had never been into the wilds alone before, and her eyes were just as wide as mine had been when I made this journey for the first time.

'Did you see that?' she squeaked excitedly, after about five minutes.

'It was a deer…'

'But it was an amazing deer!'

I grinned and rolled my eyes.

She continued to babble excitedly. 'Look at these mushrooms. I'll have to take some of these to study their properties later. Ooh, is that a spriggan? No, it's just a weirdly shaped tree. Shame, I've always wanted to see a spriggan… did you get a look at those butterflies? I think they were monarch butterflies. Their wings have so many different abilities, you know. Health restoration, magicka damage… I can't believe I never came out here before. I hope there aren't any wolves or trolls or sabre cats or bandits around. I should have brought a knife or something with me. How much further is it?'

I had allowed myself to tune out, but my ears registered the final question and I turned to look at her. 'Not far. I usually meet her around this time anyway, in a glade just there.'

Marcella nodded, and I could see her trying to rein in her enthusiasm and excitement in order to play the part of the responsible older sister again. 'All right. Will she be there already?'

'She should be. If she isn't, we just need to wait a little while.'

The clearing was deserted when we arrived. Henja must have been held up with farmwork or chores. I busied myself telling Marcella about how I'd met her and of all the times we had shared, and I could see my sister's suspicion gradually fading.

Half an hour passed. Then an hour. Then another half hour. I found myself beginning to worry. Henja was never normally this late, and she hadn't said anything to me yesterday about not being able to turn up. All sorts of fears awoke in my heart.

'Stop worrying, Gallus. She's just late, that's all.'

'Just late?' I repeated incredulously. 'She's never this late.'

'She probably just couldn't come today and wasn't able to tell you before.'

My only response was to pace restlessly up and down the clearing.

'If you're that worried, we can always go and find her house and just take a look to see if it looks like she's in.'

'I can't do that. I don't think Henja's father knows about me-'

'Then we don't let him see us. Where's the harm?'

Unable to come up with a reply, I relented.

As we made our way through the woodlands, I couldn't stop myself from thinking of all the terrible things that might have befallen my friend. She could have been ambushed by predators and left to lie in the dirt, wounded and dying. Her father might have discovered her friendship with me and forbidden her to meet me ever again. She might have become lost, might even now be wandering the forest calling my name as she sought for me.

She might even be dead. My fearless friend might be dead.

Subconsciously, my pace quickened, and within moments I was running, Marcella at my side. Despite her calm exterior, I could see that she, too, was worried.

We broke through the trees, and for the first time, I saw Henja's home, nestling in the long grass of the meadows ahead of us, encircled by trees in a way that made it look almost like a bird's egg, tucked into a corner of its nest. I looked at it with wide, frightened eyes, and knew instantly that something was wrong.

I slammed to a stop, breathing hard, as I took in the chilling sight.

The chimney was not smoking. The fields packed around the place were deserted. A cart was lying on its side next to the wall, one of its wheels split in two. The door to the house was open, swinging backwards and forwards in the wind.

'Gods, no,' I whispered, inching forwards. I did not want to believe what my own eyes were telling me. I had to be mistaken. I had to be.

'Gallus,' Marcella said, from behind me, but I barely heard her.

'Henja!' I shouted, and without even thinking I was racing forwards, aware of nothing except for the fact that this was my friend's home, and something was wrong, wrong, wrong, as wrong as it could possibly be. 'Henja!'

I reached the door and flung it aside, bursting into the house. 'Henja!' I cried again.

No answer. I gazed around me, taking in the ashes that lay huddled in the fireplace, the rooms devoid of sound or movement, the upturned furniture and broken dishes littering the floor. Something inside me half hoped that at any moment some stranger would march towards me, demanding to know who I was and what I was doing inside his house, and how I knew his daughter.

But no one did.

The whole place was silent. It was a strange, deep silence, the silence that can only be born when there is no one to make any noise, no one to talk or laugh or shout or whisper. No one at all.

I stared and stared. I did not want to believe it.

But somehow, it was true.

The house was empty.

Henja was gone.

* * *

**I'm sorry. This had to happen. Please save any questions till next chapter...**

**Sorry for taking so long, and I really, really hope this doesn't seem rushed. Christmas complicated a whole load of things and I only recently managed to get computer access for long enough to do some proper writing. So I was writing this pretty quickly.**

**I'd just like to say, if anyone's looking for some really good Elder Scrolls stories, I recommend 'The Huntess' by ShoutFinder, 'Stealing Hearts' and 'A Single Nightshade' by AshleighAishwarya, and 'Golden Fire' by Yoyocrazy3. All really good reads.**

** Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	7. Free

**Hello, everyone! Chapter Six is up. Thanks to everyone for reading. I hope I tie up any loose ends in this chapter, but if you think there are any left, feel free to pm me and ask about them**.

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

Silence.

Deep silence, deathly silence, a silence so impenetrable and unbroken that it almost seemed like the world itself had taken a sword through the heart, and was lying unmoving and still, its last dying breaths fading away into the darkness. Either that, or the entire planet was frozen with horror and shock, stunned into stillness and silence by the horrifying knowledge that Henja was gone.

But it couldn't be true. It simply could not be true. This was a mistake or an illusion, it had to be. Henja could not be gone. She was too loyal, too brave, too devoted a friend to me to be gone.

She would not leave. She would not leave me without saying goodbye. I knew her. I knew Henja Snow-Walker, I knew her better than I knew anyone else on Nirn. And I knew that she would never abandon me in a thousand years.

But her home stood empty. And the silence slept on.

My eyes wide as day, I turned in a slow circle, taking in the terrible sight. I did not want to believe it. I could not believe it. I would not believe it. Henja had to be here somewhere, just out of sight. Perhaps she was hiding, or outside somewhere. No, she wouldn't be gone. There was no way that she could be gone.

I had to find her. I had to. She was my best and only friend, the only person who truly understood me. How could I survive if she was gone? She was my light in the darkness, my hope in the despair. I needed her in order to say strong, to stop me from sinking into a black ocean of misery and pain, in the same way that I needed food to prevent me from starving, or water to prevent me from dying of thirst. Since I had met her, my life had changed. I had been able to persevere through my father's beatings and vicious hatred. She had kept me going. If she was gone, if she was really and truly gone, gone beyond my reach and sight, then I was lost. Lost to drown in a sea of hopelessness, lost to struggle through a life of sorrow and anger, lost without any light to guide my way.

'Henja!' Her name ripped from my mouth, and I heard all my despair and fear and horror burning in the single word. My cry echoed throughout the house, rebounding off the walls as if even they were trying to call her back to me, as if the Divines had seen my terror and had persuaded the entire world to try and bring back my friend.

But there was no answer, and as the last traces of the sound of my voice faded away, the silence fell again. That cruel, evil silence, the silence that seemed to be taunting me. _She's gone, _the silence jeered. _She's gone forever, and there's no bringing her back. You've lost her for all eternity._

No. I couldn't have lost her. The Divines were surely not that cruel. The Gods must know enough pity to understand that I was nothing without her. Nothing but a skeever trying to evade being crushed. They wouldn't take her away. Not when they knew how much her friendship meant to me. They wouldn't, they couldn't, they mustn't.

_But they have, _the silence hissed, a malevolent, sneering voice within my mind. _They have taken her. They don't care about you, boy. Why should they care? You are nothing. Nothing!_

'Henja!' I screamed again, my hands clenching into fists.

'Gallus,' came Marcella's voice from behind me, quiet and wary.

I spun around. 'She's gone!' I shouted, and suddenly I was angry with her, without knowing why. 'She's gone. I have to find her. You have to help me, I can't lose her, she's my best friend-'

'I know.' Marcella placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. 'Come on. Let's look for her.'

We both knew that there was no point in looking, that there was nothing to find. But still, we made our way through the house, calling out Henja's name, looking behind tables and cupboards and chests, checking every nook and cranny for her, or for some explanation of where she might have gone.

As I threw open the doors to each room, as my voice grew hoarse from shouting her name, as I searched under ever table and behind every wardrobe, I could not stop a million new fears from engulfing me. The way the furniture had been overturned implied that there had been a struggle, and yet there were no signs of blood. What if Henja and her family had been kidnapped or captured? If so, would I be able to find them and bring them home? _If that's what I have to do, I'll do it, _I thought, gritting my teeth.

But what if they were dead? What if they had been dragged off somewhere and killed? I shuddered as I began to imagine dark figures watching from every corner, silver blades flashing in their hands, waiting for the right moment to strike while my back was turned…

A flash of steel caught my eye. I spun around, a scream building up in my throat- one which quickly died when I saw what had caught my eye.

I let out a gasp of relief, yet at the same moment my breath caught in my throat.

There was a dagger embedded in the wall opposite me, sunlight sparkling on the shining metal. Pierced by its blade was a scrap of paper. A scrap of paper covered in an untidy scrawl. Beneath it lay a quill and a smashed bottle of ink, still leaking its contents onto the wooden floor.

I swallowed and slowly forced myself to walk over to it, my legs suddenly feeling as if they were made of lead. I reached out and gave the parchment a sharp tug, pulling it free of the dagger, Dreading what I would see, I held it up and looked down at it. The writing was messy and jagged, laced with blots of ink and spelling errors. I knew instantly who had written it, and I tightened my grip on the letter and began to read.

_Gallus,_

_I don't have much time to rite this, and I don't know if you'll ever be able to read it. But I hope you find it, becos you need to know what happened. _

''Because' is spelt b-e-c-a-u-s-e, Henja,' I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. 'And 'write' has a w in it.'

_I don't want you to think that I ran away and left you. I wouldn't ever do that, becos you're my best friend. We don't have any choice about leaving. The gards showed up and told us we had to go. They said we've not been paying taxes or something like that. Father said we had but they wouldn't lissen. I suppose we spent too much on food and stuff after winter. We've got ten minutes to get all our stuff and leave forever, and we won't ever be able to come back. I don't know where we're going to go or what we're going to do._

_I just wonted to say that I'm really sorry I wasn't able to stay or to come and say goodbye. Gallus, you've been such a good friend to me, and I'll never forget you for as long as I live. You did so much to help me even though it put you in danger, and you made a really good Hakon One-Eye. Thanks for saving me from the troll, and for helping us not die in the winter, and for being my friend. And I'm sorry for my bad spelling, Father never really taught me how to rite properly and I expect you'll be really cross with me for not using all the proper letters. I know you too well!_

_I'm really sorry that I have to leave, but I'm happy that I met you. I hope you become a great explorer-scholar-adventurer, like you wonted. I'll never forget you, and I hope we see each other again someday._

_Henja_

I stood motionless for what could only have been a few seconds, and yet seemed to me to be as long as a thousand years. From what sounded like a million miles away, I heard Marcella calling my name, yet I barely registered the sound. There was a strange roaring sound in my ears, and my hands were gripping the paper so tightly that they had ripped it. My heart was thumping against my chest, hammering like a smith forging a new sword, and the rest of the world seemed far away, so far away.

My trembling hands released the paper, and it drifted and fluttered to the floor. It landed in the pool of ink and was consumed by the black liquid, the oozing substance swallowing the last words my friend had given to me.

'No,' I whispered. 'Please, Divines, no.'

But the silence was still hanging in the air, taunting me, mocking me, laughing at me. And I knew that the answer was yes.

She was gone, truly gone. Henja, my friend Henja, my playmate, my comfort, my champion, my refuge, was gone.

She had left.

She had left me.

She had left me alone.

She had left me alone forever.

She was gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

And I would never find her again. Never.

_No! _screamed a furious voice inside my mind.

_Yes, _the silence sneered back.

'No!' I roared, and the sound of my own shout jerked me back to reality. The silence was shattered as if it were a sheet of glass that had been struck with a battleaxe, and I almost felt that it had fled in terror, stunned by my fury.

'Gallus.' Marcella was beside me, and there was fear in her eyes.

I turned to her, suddenly aware that my face was streaked with tears. 'She's gone.'

I tried to shout the words, but they came out as a broken, twisted sob.

'Gone where?' My sister's voice was quiet and gentle, but even her kindness could not calm me.

'The guards sent them away.' My voice was so choked with tears that I could barely make out my own words.

Marcella stooped and pulled the letter from the pool of ink, sending black droplets flying. She squinted at the words, trying to decipher them. Finally she dropped the paper and turned to me, her eyes filled with sorrow.

'I'm sorry, Gallus,' she told me, and I could see that it was true.

But what use was her being sorry? Could that bring Henja back? Could that mend the wound in my heart and soul? Could that return the only friend I had back to me?

No. Nothing could bring her back. She was gone. Lost. Forever.

Never again would we chase each other through the woodlands, brandishing our sword-sticks as we chased down our invisible foes. Never again would we skim stones over the water, cheering as they bounced, arguing over whose stone had leaped into the air more times. Never again would we clamber through the trees, or pelt each other with snowballs, or adventure to far-off lands, or battle terrible creatures. Never again would I look into those bright, sky-blue eyes or hear that merry laugh and wide smile. Never again.

Never.

It was over. All over. The laughter, the happiness, the smiles, the adventure, the challenges, the friendship. It was over.

Our glade was just a glade again, no longer a portal to a thousand other worlds. I was just a child again, not an adventurer or explorer. The magic was lost. I would never see my friend again.

Why? How? Why would anyone want to do this to us? How could anyone be so cruel?

I looked up at Marcella, and I felt so young, so weak, so foolish.

'I don't understand,' I whispered. 'I just don't understand.'

Marcella wrapped her arms around me, and I laid my head on her chest and wept.

It was true. I did not understand. I did not understand how this could have happened, or why.

All I understood was that everything was over, that I had lost my one and only friend on all of Nirn.

And I would never see her again.

* * *

How can an eagle fly without its wings? How can a bard sing without his voice? How can a warrior fight without a blade?

And how can a child live without a friend?

A friend is not merely a person. A friend is the person who supplies you with comfort and joy. A friend laughs with you and walks alongside you, lets you cry on their shoulder and holds your hand. A friend guides you when you are lost, holds up a torch when you cannot see, smiles at you when you find yourself overwhelmed with grief. A friend reaches out to catch you when you fall.

A life without friendship is a life without laughter or happiness.

I had lived for years without a friend. I had not understood how much I had been missing. And then, when I met Henja, I began to learn how little my life was without someone to share it.

And now that I had lost her, I could not cope.

I had lived through a few months of pure and beautiful bliss. Henja had helped me to discover things about myself that I had never known before. She had transformed me, brought me out of my shell and into the world. I had been that wingless eagle, that voiceless bard, that unarmed warrior. She had given me wings, a song, a weapon. She had taught me to fly and sing and fight.

And now my wings had been clipped, and I was falling from the sky. My voice had been lost, and my song had ended. My blade had broken, and I was surrounded on all sides by my foes. And they were closing in, hungry for my blood.

Henja was gone, and with her everything I had been living for.

I was nothing without her. Nothing.

Nothing but a friendless, hopeless child, hated by his father, ignored by his brother, unable to be helped by his sister, an entire world away from his mother.

I was lost, truly lost. I felt as if I had been cast away on a ship and was lost in the middle of a freezing ocean, surrounded by crashing, relentless waves on every side. No escape. No way out. No chance of rescue. And any moment now, I would hit a rock and sink. There would be no one to throw me a rope, to pull me out before I went under. My head would slip beneath those icy waves, my lungs would fill with water, and I would sink down into the black depths of an ocean of cruelty and despair.

'Come on, Gallus, eat something.' Marcella glanced up at me across the table, her plaintive expression begging me to drag myself out of my despondency. My only response was to silence her with a barren, hollow look and poke my venison aimlessly around my plate.

'What's up with you today?' My father fixed me with an intense, disdainful glare, one that made me feel as if he were looking right inside me, seeing all my secrets. I looked down and did not answer. _As if you care, _I thought bitterly.

'Don't pay any attention to him.' Prosperus cast me a careless glance. 'He's not worth your wasting your breath.'

I clenched my fists and tried to shut them out. All of them. Even Marcella. None of them understood my grief. None of them understood what I had lost. I did not want to have to listen to them.

'I asked you a question.' My father's voice was suddenly tense with anger. Yet still I did not look up, did not meet that callous grey gaze.

'I know,' I said quietly. Next to me, Marcella shook her head, and I could tell that she was trying to silently warn me not to provoke him. I ignored the gesture.

'Are you going to answer that question?' I could see him itching to rise from his seat, but still I did not so much as turn my head in his direction.

'No,' I said, my voice low, and I could hear all of my grief and anger in the single word.

Marcella breathed in sharply, and some deep-buried part of me felt a twinge of guilt. I knew that watching father hurt me hurt her as well. But suddenly, I did not care about what happened to me.

'And why's that?'

I still did not look at him. I stared down at my untouched food, gritting my teeth and trying to shut out the entire world. If only I could just build up walls around myself, tall, strong, high, unbreakable walls, walls that no one could knock down or climb over. They would protect me from all the pain and anger and hatred and unfairness and injustice in the world. All of it would be blocked out forever, and I would be safe. Alone, but safe.

'I said, why's that?'

_Don't look at him, _I told myself. _Don't look. Don't flinch. Don't react. _I was beyond caring now. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I wasn't going to argue any more. I wasn't going to explain anything to him. I was just going to stay silent, and let the entire world move on without me. That would be easiest, I decided, easiest and best. Let him rage and roar and beat me, but don't react. And don't give in.

'I'm asking you a question-'

'And I'm not answering.'

The words slipped out before I could stop them, before I could bite them back. A cold wave of dread swept over me. I had allowed myself to show over the top of the protective barricade I had retreated behind. And now I had exposed myself to the enemy's fire.

Many of the warriors of Skyrim have a saying. 'Keep your shield raised until it shatters. Then draw your sword and fight until it snaps. Fight on with your fists until they fail. Stand against the foe to the last drop of your blood.'

It's a typical thing, really, for a Nord to say. Such recklessness and refusal to surrender is classic of the sons of Skyrim, a race that values honour, courage and perseverance. When the battle turns against their favour, a member of almost every other race shall turn tail and flee, to hide, to wait, to watch, to recover strength and wait until the time is right to strike again. But a Nord warrior has only one thought when it comes to the battle. Not so much 'death or glory' as 'glory in death.' If they cannot win a battle, then any Nord who calls himself worthy of entry to Sovngarde would far rather die fighting in valour than live in shame, with the knowledge that they fled from a foe.

As you know well, I am no Nord warrior. I am an Imperial thief. Few Imperials will choose a glorious death to a chance to continue their life. And no thief will put their life at risk if there is a chance to escape.

But at that moment, I set aside all wisdom and reason.

My shield was broken.

It was time to draw my sword.

I had allowed myself to lower my defences. And now I had no choice but to fight.

And fight I would. Until I fell.

I would take it no longer. This man had crushed my childhood. He had destroyed my youth and given me a warrior's heart and soul and spirit too young. His cruelty, and my will to survive, had made me grow up too quickly, and this was the result. I was no longer willing to be thrown around and despised and beaten and oppressed. I knew who I was, and I was a fighter down to the bone. I would not let him make me suffer any longer.

He got to his feet. 'And why are you not answering?'

I don't know what he was expecting me to do. But I am almost certain he was not expecting me to rise from my seat as well, and tell him the absolute truth.

'Because I don't want to answer, and I don't care what you do about it.'

'Gallus, no!' Marcella grabbed my arm and tried to pull me back down. I shook her off and met those cold grey eyes, unflinching and unafraid.

'You don't care?' His fists were so tightly curled that his knuckles had turned white. 'And why-'

'You hate me. Mother's dead. My best friend's gone.' I spat out the words. 'Why the Oblivion should I care?'

'Insolent little- wait.' My father's brow creased, and his eyes narrowed. 'What do you mean, your best friend's gone?'

I glared at him. 'I mean she's gone. Her family got sent away.'

A flicker of recognition and surprise crossed his face. It was only there for a moment, and was quickly hidden behind his mask of hatred again, but my eyes were sharp enough to see it. 'Well, that's tough luck. Now sit down and eat your lunch.'

I took a step towards him. 'You know something about it. About what happened to Henja.'

'Henja? Never heard the name in my life.'

'Jornn Snow-Walker's daughter,' I said slowly. 'The daughter of your rival.'

He said nothing.

'You do know! I saw your face when I said she got sent away!' My voice was rising. 'You know why they got made to leave!'

'I don't know anything. All I know is that we've gained a nice bit of land. I don't have to answer to you.'

I looked at him, and I was disgusted by what I saw.

'It was you,' I said finally. 'You had Henja's family sent away.'

No reply, but the grey eyes blazed like two pools of stone-coloured flame.

'It was,' I snarled. 'You got the Jarl to send the guards to them and make them leave. You wanted their land. You wanted to get rid of them so that you could have everything that belonged to them.'

His lip curled. 'And if I did, what does it matter?'

'It matters because Henja's my friend!' I screamed. Marcella's hands were clasped over her mouth, and even Prosperus looked worried. 'It matters because she's my friend and you got her sent away!'

'Do you think I care about your gods-damned friend?' He, too, was shouting now, but if he thought that would make me surrender, he was wrong. My sword had been drawn, and now it was meeting his. Until it broke, I intended to use it.

'I know you don't care! I know you don't care about her or me or anything that's not to do with you!'

'You need to learn your place, boy. I've had just about enough of you and your cheek.'

I stared at him, coolly, coldly, evenly. My voice did not sound like my own as I replied.

'Fine.' I sounded as if I was at least twice as old as I actually was. 'Because I've had enough of you.'

And I turned and ran.

I turned my back on them, on my father's seething, apoplectic rage, on Prosperus's stunned confusion, on Marcella's terrified horror, and bolted.

I was gone before any of them knew what had happened. Out of the door, across the meadows, into the woods. Running as far and as fast as I could. Not looking back.

Because I had finally taken more than I could bear.

He had chosen to take out his anger on me. He had despised me and beaten me and made me feel like a cornered rat. He had stopped me from having any real childhood. He had hardened my heart. He had even stolen away my friend.

And I was not going to take it any more.

No. I was leaving it all behind. All of it.

Forever.

From somewhere in the trees behind me, I heard Marcella screaming my name. 'Gallus! Come back! Please, Gallus, please come back!'

For a moment, I hesitated. But I shook my head and kept running. I had come too far to turn back now. To return would be to face my father's rage. And I had decided that I would never put up with it again. Never. I would not return. Not even for Marcella. Not even for my sister.

I listened to her cries growing quieter and quieter, and further and further away, until finally they faded away into the whisper of the trees.

Only then did I stop.

I knew that they would not find me. None of them knew their way through the woodlands, as I did. They could search all their lives, but they would not find me if I did not want to be found.

I did not know where I was going, nor how I was going to survive. All I knew was that I was never going back.

I was going to go where they could not find me. I was going to find Henja.

And until I found her, I was alone.

Alone, but free. Finally free.

* * *

END OF BOOK ONE


	8. Refuge

BOOK TWO- THIEF

_The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes._

- Marcel Proust

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

A bird is singing, from somewhere high above me, its high, sweet, melodic voice clear and beautiful in the fresh twilight air. The moons are shining down upon is, full and round, like a diamond and a ruby suspended side by side in a sky made of obsidian. I close my eyes with a smile, knowing that the night is coming, savouring the darkness. Because I know that this darkness will fade before long, and the sun will appear on the horizon, bringing on a new day. A day full of opportunity and freedom and hope.

I hear someone laughing, laughing in a merry voice that I recognise. My heart swells to the sound and I turn, meeting a pair of deep brown eyes identical to mine.

A kind smile, bright and filled with love. A gentle hand on my shoulder, so soothing, so comforting. Glossy dark hair floating in the wind.

'Look, Gallus,' my mother breathes, pointing up into the tree. 'Do you see the little bird?'

I peer through shadow and leaf and branch, and my eyes find the creature, looking down on us with bright, inquisitive dark eyes. It is small and plain, drab brown above and pale buff below, and only a little larger than my fist. It is the plainest and most ordinary creature I have ever seen in all my short time on Nirn.

'What is it?' I whisper, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb it.

She smiles. 'It's called a nightingale.'

'Nightingale.' I repeat the strange name, rolling it around my mouth, almost tasting the sound of it.

'That's right. Nightingale.' Her smile widens. 'The most beautiful bird in the world.'

I blink in confusion. I would not call this uninteresting, dusky brown bird beautiful. Sweet, maybe, but not beautiful. 'Why?'

'Why is it the most beautiful?'

I nod, waiting for an answer.

She looks up, meeting the bird's curious stare. 'A nightingale can't match the nobility of an eagle, or the grace of a swan, or the swiftness of a falcon,' she murmurs. 'But the true beauty of a nightingale lies within.'

As I look at her, baffled, the nightingale shifts on its perch. It lifts its head, ruffles its feathers, opens its beak, and begins to sing.

My face splits into a smile as I listen. Now I understand its beauty. The song is the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. The notes rise and fall and flow, ringing through the night air, clear and piercing and filled with an emotion that can only be joy. The sweet sound fills the night, drowning out the wind and the rustling leaves, and I briefly wonder how such a tiny bird can hold so much song.

'Isn't that beautiful?' my mother whispers as the final notes die away. 'Isn't that really something?'

I nod wordlessly, resisting the sudden urge to clap for the drab, unappreciated master musician who sits in the tree above my head.

'One of the smallest, plainest birds in all of Tamriel. Nothing much to look at, but when it sings, the whole world stops to listen. Don't you think that amazing?'

'Amazing,' I agree, my voice a thrilled whisper.

I look up into the tree with wide eyes, and the little musician gazes back. The eyes of boy and bird meet, and I can almost see him smiling. It's as if he somehow knows how much we have loved listening to him, as if he is proud that he created such beautiful music, music that made creatures twenty times his size stop and stare in astonishment.

'You know, some people are like nightingales, too.' A thoughtful expression crosses my mother's face. 'They might look like nothing much. They might seem shy and secretive and plain and ordinary at first. But if you take the time to wait for them to begin to sing, you'll find they hold wonder and beauty and magic that other mortals could never hope to match.'

I meet her warm, shining eyes. 'Really?'

She chuckles. 'Yes, really. Some of the people you'll meet in your life will be nothing special at first sight. But as time passes, you might just find that they have a nightingale's song.'

* * *

I awoke with a start.

It was raining, raining so hard that the entire ground was covered in water, and it was a struggle to see what was ahead. Even the vast, towering mountains could hardly be made out on the pale grey horizon. The entire world had been obscured and blocked out by a sea of falling water.

I shivered, pulling my soaked tunic around myself as I huddled against the trunk of the pine tree I had taken shelter beneath. I had not meant to sleep, I realised with a flash of horror and unsurpassable fear. I had meant to take cover and wait for the rainstorm to end. Sleeping out here in the open- that was asking to be killed by predators. How could I have been so foolish as to allow myself to fall asleep in the middle of the wilds of Skyrim, completely undefended?

Because I was exhausted, I realised grimly. Because I was hungry, thirsty, tired, lost and afraid. Three days of wandering the wilderness, three days of scouring the land for signs of my lost friend, three days of eating nothing but whatever I could find growing on the bushes and trees, three days fearing that at any moment my father's hand would crash down on my shoulder. Three days running from my past, my home, my family.

My family. I closed my eyes and tried to stifle a sob, but I knew that the raindrops running down my cheeks were mingled with tears. They were not tears for my father, nor for Prosperus, nor for my home. They were tears for Marcella, who I loved so much and who I knew had loved me equally, and was now left to face my father's rage. They were tears for the heartbreak and sorrow I had caused her. They were tears for my mother, dead and gone, killed for the greed of some unknown, evil stranger. They were tears for the happy, united family we had once been. They were tears for the safety and security and certainty of the life I had left behind, however much I had hated that existence. They were tears for Henja, banished from her home and turned out into the wilderness. And most of all, they were tears for myself. Alone, helpess and terrified. Unable to face whatever lay ahead.

But I had to. I had to face it, whatever it was. For my sake, and for Henja's sake. I had to find her.

_And if you do find her, what then? _came a soft, malevolent hiss from the back of my mind.

I shook my head to clear it of the thought. No use crossing my bridges before I came to them. I had to go one step at a time, focus on the present, block out the past, and the future…

…well, I would have to wait and see what the future would bring.

The rain showed no signs of stopping. I had to keep moving, or else I would freeze to death. The wind was whipping around me, blowing raindrops in every direction and biting down into my skin until I could barely feel my body. Wincing, I struggled to my feet and moved off into the storm, praying that I might see a light on the horizon, a break in the wall of water, anything at all that might signify safety.

I let out a hollow laugh. Safety? In the middle of Skyrim's wilderness? That would be like trying to find a live lamb in a den of wolves. I might as well expect the sea to dry up, or the mountains to fall.

My feet sank into mud with every step, and the rain seemed to be getting heavier still. How could that even be possible? Gods above, this was Skyrim, not Black Marsh! Had some fool angered Kynareth? Was this her retribution?

Whatever it was, I thought brokenly, it was wet, miserable, and not helping me in the slightest. I had to find some shelter soon, but if the rain continued like this, I never would.

'Divines,' I whispered, my words half sobbed. 'Why did I ever leave home?'

The answer was obvious the moment the words were out of my mouth. Because even this- being frozen and half drowned, lost, starving, alone, terrified and uncertain- was better than what I was leaving behind.

The thought gave me strength. I had found the courage to face my father's fury, to openly defy him at last. I had escaped his cruelty, broken free of the cage he had kept me in. I was free, finally free. I had my whole life ahead of me, and it would be a life of freedom. I was not going to allow myself to be disheartened by a little Gods-damned rain! No, I would keep going, keep fighting, and I would face whatever came with honour and courage.

A howl split the air.

I froze, cold dread turning my blood to ice. A second howl joined the first, a strangely beautiful sound, yet filled with hunger and bloodlust. As I listened, two more voices rose up into the shrieking, biting wind, and with horror I realised that they could be only minutes away from me.

I felt as if I could have died of pure despair there and then. Wolves. Why now? Why wolves on top of everything else?

The howling ceased. Silence fell, broken only by the sound of the rain hammering on the ground and the treetops, and my own terrified, breathless gasps. Visions of sleek grey bodies loping towards me through the rain filled my mind, pictures of white fangs like daggers and eyes burning with malice. In my mind, I saw them leap upon me, heard my own cries of fear and agony as they pinned me down and sank their teeth into my flesh-

I cried out without thinking, and began to run.

If you have ever gone three days without shelter or proper food, without any friend to stand by you and without any weapon to defend yourself, without any knowledge of where you were or where you were heading, and then heard the hunting-call of wild wolves on the wind, perhaps you will come close to understanding the despair and terror I felt in that moment. The wolves were swift, cunning and merciless, whereas I was slow, helpless and afraid. If they caught my scent, then my death warrant would be signed. There would be no escape.

For once, I was grateful for the rain. Perhaps it would wash away my scent before the wolves could find it.

The howls came again, and I blundered on, only just dodging a tree that abruptly loomed up ahead of me. An opportunity occurred to me- and idea that might well save my life. I doubled back on myself and raced back towards the tree, grabbing hold of the lowest branches and pulling myself up. The climb was the hardest of my life, for my hands were numb, the branches wet and hard to grip, and my entire body shaking with fear, but somehow I managed to scramble about ten feet up into the sheltering boughs of the tree before my strength failed me and I was forced to collapse in a fork between two branches, my sides heaving and my face drained of blood, my breath forming clouds of mist in the freezing air.

Through the thunder of the falling rain came the sound of paws splashing through the mud, and snarls that grew gradually closer and closer. Silver shapes began to form around the base of the tree, melting into my vision like ghosts. Four pairs of yellow eyes gleamed up at me, and I saw their thirst for my blood in their unblinking gaze.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around a branch and clinging to it with the last scrap of strength I possessed. If I could hold on for long enough, they would eventually have to give up and leave in search of easier prey. They would not reach me up here. Surely they would realise that there were far more straightforward kills to be had?

My hopes were dashed as the largest of the wolves- most likely the alpha- took a flying leap towards me. I let out an involuntary shriek as its claws dug into the bark only a few feet below me, gouging lines in the wood. For a second, the beast's eyes blazed into mine; then its grip slipped on the wet bark and it half fell, half slithered back into the mud.

The pack let out a chorus of enraged yowls and furious snarls and converged on the tree. Shreds of bark and droplets of mud went flying in all directions as they leaped again and again, biting at each over and howling with frustration as they tried to reach me. Shaking with terror and dread I tried to pull myself higher, desperate to make certain that I was out of their reach. If one of them should grab hold of me for even the slightest moment, it was almost a foregone conclusion that I would fall.

I swallowed and reached for a branch above my head, closing my hand around it and pulling myself up.

There was a splintering snap. It came away in my hand.

And I fell.

_You didn't test it? _I screamed at myself. _You idiot!_

I hit the ground with a squelch of mud. The nearest wolf let out a triumphant howl and leaped upon me.

The world vanished in a blur of terror and pain as its teeth met in my arm. I screamed as I felt the fangs sink in deep, tearing through my flesh. I struggled and thrashed, but I could not shift the creature. A blunt, terrifying knowledge flashed through my mind- this was when I died.

And then, in the mud, my fingers found a rock.

The wolf staggered away with a pain howl as I grasped it in my hand and brought it smashing up into its skull. It reeled backwards, one eye obscured by blood, shock and agony plain on its face. I knew that this was an opportunity for me to clamber back into the tree again, but I could not move. I had never experienced pain such as this before. It was a pain that transfixed my entire body and turned my blood to fire.

I closed my blood-soaked fingers around the rock as the alpha shouldered the injured wolf aside and slunk towards me. I knew that this was the end. But if I could, I would go down fighting.

It bared its teeth and lunged in.

And then there was a hiss of air and a sudden _thunk._ Without warning, the wolf went limp and slumped across my body, and I winced as the foul stench of its final breath floated towards me on the wind. With wide, uncomprehending eyes, I stared at its fallen form- and saw the arrow embedded in its neck.

There was a sudden flash of orange flame, and a bolt of fire blazed through the air, smashing into the wolf I had wounded and bowling it off its feet. It vanished in an explosion of blinding colour and scorching heat, its last petrified howl ripping through the rain. Another arrow snapped through the air towards the third beast, and it stumbled and fell in mid-stride, its snarl dying on its tongue. The final wolf hesitated, clearly uncertain of whether to fight or flee. A second firebolt put an abrupt end to its confusion, and it collapsed in a pile of black and gold embers.

I lay still. The world began to flicker and fade around me. As if from a million miles away, I heard footsteps coming towards me, and made out a pair of bright green eyes. A voice thundered in my ears. 'It's a child! He's still alive!'

Then even those sights and sounds were gone, and I was falling into black, empty darkness.

* * *

Fire was flickering at the edge of my vision, amber flames dancing and glowing and embers dancing upwards into the sky. I could dimly make out five shadowy shapes huddled around it, but the entire world was blurred and grey. I was aware that it was twilight, and that the rain had finally stopped. But apart from that, all I could register was the burning agony in my left arm. I let out a soft, involuntary moan.

'He is awake.' A strange, foreign-sounding voice echoed in my ears, and I saw a dark shape kneel down by my side. I blinked, trying to clear my vision. The world slowly swam into focus, and two yellow eyes met mine.

I sucked in air sharply as I looked at the man beside me, and the others that clustered around the fire. For a moment, amazement drowned out the pain.

Khajiit. The first I'd ever seen.

'Lie still, boy. How are you feeling?' The words pounded around my head meaninglessly for a few seconds before I could make sense of them. The Khajiit had spoken in Cyrodiilic, but I swallowed, summoned up my strength, and replied in his own language.

'My arm hurts,' I told him in shaky, uncertain Ta'agra, the words sounding strange on my tongue.

The Khajiit blinked in surprise. 'You speak the words of the people?'

'The words of the people,' I dimly remembered, was what the Khajiit called their language. 'A little,' I replied.

'How do you come to know our tongue?' It was a different Khajiit this time, a female with dusky brown fur and sharp green eyes. She regarded me with a mixture of concern, confusion and suspicion.

'This one was taught by his family,' I said quietly, remembering to refer to myself in the third person, just as the folk of Elsweyr did. There was no word for _I _or _me _in Ta'agra.

'And where are your family?'

I stared at her defiantly. 'As far away from this one as he was able to get from them.'

She blinked in surprise. The male Khajiit frowned for a moment, before raising his hands. Golden light began to swirl and dance around his palms. 'Hold still, child. Your wounds were deep, and though Jo'shadro already used his healing magic upon them, it would be beneficial if he could do so again now that you have awoken.'

I nodded weakly, and Jo'shadro narrowed his eyes in concentration as he focused his magic upon my arm. The marks of the wolf's teeth had half-healed, leaving jagged red scars that were still steadily seeping blood. The golden light of the healing spell whirled around me, slowly pulling flesh back together, staunching the flow of blood, sealing the ugly wounds. I let out a sigh of pleasure as the pain began to fade away.

The female Khajiit crouched down next to Jo'shadro, looking at me inquisitively. 'You are an Imperial?'

I dipped my head. It was one of the few things I still understood.

'What is your name?'

'Gallus,' I told her, and I found that speaking was easier now that the pain had been deadened slightly. I decided not to tell her my surname. I did not want her to recognise it and take me home.

'How many years have passed since your birth?'

'Six,' I told her, and I couldn't help adding, '_nearly _seven.'

She looked at me searchingly. 'And what are you doing so far from home, at such a young age, Gallus?'

'Azhanri!' Jo'shadro's head snapped around, and he fixed the woman with an angry stare. 'This is not the time to interrogate the boy! He needs rest while he heals. Let him be.'

Azhanri's tail flicked warningly. 'This one would advise against you taking that tone with her, nephew.'

Jo'shadro gave her a small smile. 'Ah, don't try to scare Jo'shadro. He knows that Azhanri has a heart as soft as a kitten's fur.'

'Ha!' Azhanri tried to look stern, but there was laughter in her eyes. 'That will not stop her from clawing your pelt if she has to.'

With a chuckle, Jo'shadro brought his hands back down, and the golden light died as his spell ceased. 'There. This one can do nothing more. You have been lucky indeed, but you shall live.'

'Thank you.' I pushed myself up into a sitting position, so as to see them better. 'And thank you for killing those wolves.'

'Think nothing of it.' It was a third Khajiit, a male, with dark brown fur and heavy steel armour. His muzzle was scarred, several whiskers were missing, and his torn ears were weighed down by golden rings. I guessed that he was the caravan guard. 'It was a pleasure. Wolves are enemies of us all.'

Azhanri nodded. 'And we would never abandon a child to those ruthless beasts. We are better than that.' A strange expression- something between anger and sorrow flitted across her face. 'Some of the folk of this land think us no better than criminals. But we have hearts and souls, the same as them. The same as anybody.'

I said nothing, uncertain of how to respond. My father often complained about the feline folk of Elsweyr. _Thieves, murderers and Skooma dealers, every stinking one of them, _he had said all to many times. But these people had saved me from the wolves, healed me, and carried me back to their camp. If I had needed any proof that my father had been wrong, it was right in front of me.

'The soup is ready,' one of the two around the fire called out suddenly.

Jo'shadro glanced at me. 'Do you think you could manage something to eat?'

I would have laughed, had I not known how painful it would be to do so. I had been dreaming of eating a proper meal for three days.

I nodded, and Jo'shadro helped me over to the fire. The warmth of the flames calmed me. I had food, and shelter, and I was among people who I was almost certain I could trust. For the first time since I could remember, I was safe. I did not have to worry about starving or being torn apart by wild beasts, nor about when next my father would see fit to take his anger out on me.

_Safe, _I thought, hardly able to believe it. Safety was something that I had never known before.

A young female Khajiit with soft grey fur pressed a bowl into my hands, and I took it gladly, clasping my hands around the warm wood. 'You should drink while it is still hot,' she said quietly, not meeting my gaze.

'Thank you,' I said again, and she dipped her head shyly.

A single sip of the steaming liquid sent heat flooding through my entire body. It was nothing like anything I had tasted before, filled with spices and herbs I had no name for. I drained the bowl within seconds, desperate for its warmth.

The fifth member of the caravan let out a soft chuckle. 'You look like you needed that, my young friend,' he told me, smiling.

I nodded wordlessly.

'Then S'resh begs you to have some more. There is plenty for everyone.'

I was only too glad to accept the offer. Perhaps it was because I was so weary and hungry and so appreciated it more, but I still say even now that the meal I shared with those five Khajiit that evening was the best of my entire life.

'So come, tell us,' Azhanri said finally, her stern green gaze fixing on me. 'How do you come to be alone in the wilderness so young?'

'You said you ran from your family,' Jo'shadro added, raising his eyebrows slightly.

I clutched my bowl, searching for the right words, unable to shake the fear that they might insist on returning me home.

'Yes' I said at last. 'And this one is not going back. No matter what you say.'

'Why do you think we would make you?' The armoured one glanced up at me over the rim of his soup bowl. 'It's no concern of ours.'

I looked around at the others, but none of them gave any sign that they disagreed. They merely looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to go on.

'This one's father… well, he's not exactly…' I struggled to find the words. 'He's not exactly the best father.'

Understanding crossed their faces, and sympathy sparked in their eyes.

'It's a long story, but… this one is looking for his friend. Her name is Henja. Her family had to leave their home, and now… they could be anywhere.'

They all looked at each other, and I could see what was going through their minds. _He'll never find her._

'I know it's practically impossible,' I snapped, accidentally slipping back into Cyrodiilic. 'But she's the only friend I've got. I have to find her.'

S'resh's tail flicked. 'You have five more friends here, child,' he told me, his expression filled with sad kindness. The other four nodded, murmuring agreement.

I blinked, touched by their compassion. 'Thank you,' I told them, yet again.

The grey-furred female frowned thoughtfully. 'If Zhevani were you, she would try looking for your friend in Riften.'

I looked at her in surprise. 'Riften?' I echoed.

The caravan guard inclined his head in agreement, his eyes narrowing. 'A town to the east, on the banks of lake Honrich,' he told me. 'A den of thieves, and a city where we always do good business. The homeless and the destitute of Skyrim are inevitably washed there, like filth is washed into a gutter.'

'Do'zaro speaks the truth.' Azhanri agreed. 'There's no guarantee, of course, that you will find your friend there. But it would be a good place to begin your search.'

Excitement started to burn within me like a fire. 'Do… do you think you could take this one there?' I asked, reverting to Ta'agra again.

'Of course. It is the next stop on our trading route,' S'resh said with a shrug. 'We would be only too happy to escort you.'

I opened my mouth to express my gratitude, but Jo'shadro held up a paw to stop me. 'No need to thank us again, friend. We would do this for any lost child.'

The night grew deeper and darker, and the sky turned from blue to black. Stars began to glimmer in the heavens, lighting up one by one, bathing the world in flickering silver light. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, and I could not stop myself from flinching. Yet something within me told me that I had no need to be afraid, that I was safe, that I was among friends.

I noticed that Azhanri had fallen silent, and was gazing up into the shining eyes of the moons as if she were seeking something, some secret written in the sky. There was sorrow in her green eyes, and a strange longing. I was considering whether I should ask her if she was all right when she began to sing, to sing in a low, soft voice that made my skin prickle, to sing a song that conjured up images in my minds of rainforests, deserts and savannahs, hidden far away in a distant land.

The words were in Ta'agra, and some I could not understand. Most of them I no longer remember. But I have never forgotten what it was that Azhanri sang of, and over the years I have changed the song, making it rhyme in the common tongue, so that I might never forget its sorrowful beauty.

_'There is a kingdom, we are told_

_With forests green and deserts gold_

_A distant land of endless sand_

_A far-off country, wild and old.'_

The others began to join in, their voices mingling and rising up into the ebony sky, along with the ashes of the fire and the whispering wind. They were all gazing upwards now, perhaps taking comfort in the fact that the same moons were shining over the deserts and jungles of Elsweyr.

_'We walk beneath a snow-filled sky_

_In lands of ice, and mountains high_

_And though we dream, we've never seen_

_That land where boundless deserts lie.'_

I closed my eyes, suddenly understanding why they had been so willing to help me. These people had lost their home, just as I had. They had left their homeland long ago, or else been born in Skyrim, far from the sands of Elsweyr. They had lost their place of safety, perhaps had to leave behind their families as well. They might have been beastfolk whilst I was human, might have been Khajiit whilst I was an Imperial, might have had fur and talons and tails whilst I did not. And yet we were far more alike that I had realised.

Do'zaro had upturned his bowl and began thumping out a quiet drumbeat on it as they began the final verse. I could hear their grief and hope in every word, their sorrow and their longing to return to their home.

_'Divines above us, hear our prayer_

_Grant that we shall return back there_

_Guide us once more to that far shore_

_The distant land they call Elsweyr.'_

Their song faded away into silence, and they sat still, as if they had been frozen in time, their eyes fixed on the stars and the moons. And I sat with them, looking to the sky as well, lost in thought.

I thought of the stars and the moons, and wondered whether somewhere, far away, Henja and Marcella were looking up at them too. I thought of the family I had left behind, and all the pain and sorrow I had escaped from. I thought of how kind the Gods had been, to set me free and save me from death, and bring me to a place of security, a refuge where I could finally be safe.

But most of all, I thought of the future. And of the danger and the freedom that lay ahead.

* * *

**Azhanri, Do'zaro, Jo'shadro, S'resh and Zhevani are all made by me. You won't be finding them anywhere on the game. I had to include them, because I didn't think Gallus would survive or find his way to Riften on his own. Their song is also mine. **

**So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading. **


	9. City

CHAPTER EIGHT

The road to Riften was long, the nights deep and black, the days hard and weary. The Khajiit moved on towards the distant city with eagerness and seemingly unfailing strength, whilst I trailed behind, desperately trying to match their relentless pace. Never stopping except to eat or sleep, we passed through forest and mountain, moor and plain, never slowing, always moving onwards. Through rain, snow and sun we journeyed on, and I watched the world around me go by with wide, thrilled eyes.

For the first time in my life, I saw things I would never have expected to see, things I had read about and dreamed about and never laid eyes upon before. I saw a pack of sabre cats bringing down an elk, saw giants herding their mammoths over a mountain pass, saw a platoon of Imperial soldiers marching towards their camp, saw the towering, distant peak of the mighty Throat of the World. By day, I travelled throughout the fierce and untamed land that was my home, towards my goal. And by night, I slept beneath the shimmering silver of the stars.

Sometimes, danger would befall us. A bandit gang, a bear, a sabre cat pack and several wolves beset us as we continued on our way, intent on seeing all six of us lying dead in the dirt. But every time, the Khajiit formed a circle around me to protect me from harm, and stood fearlessly in the face of their foes. Jo'shadro's magic burned them to ashes, Do'zaro's greatsword cut them down like crops in a harvest, S'resh and Azhanri tore into them with their swords, and Zhevani's arrows caught the light as they flew. Never once did they allow any harm to come to me.

As time passed, I came to know my travelling companions better. Azhanri was the leader of the caravan, and a little older than my father. She had an eye for a bargain and a mind for business, not to mention a shrewd and intelligent head on her shoulders. She was the only one of the five who had ever seen the shining golden sands and endless tropical forests of Elsweyr. I knew that she missed them every moment of every hour of every day, and longed to return, but for now, the best business was in Skyrim, and so here she was staying. On occasion, I'd asked her about her homeland, eager to learn more about it, but she had always changed the subject. 'Azhanri misses her home greatly,' she explained when I inquired as to why she was so reluctant to speak of what she had left behind. 'Remembering it only makes her sad.'

I learned, too, that the Khajiit were not merely friends and colleagues, but a family. Jo'shadro and Do'zaro were both Azhanri's nephews; the sons of her brother and sister respectively. Do'zaro was a man- or Khajiit, rather- of few words, seldom speaking more than a few sentences at a time to me, or indeed to any of the others. Yet beneath his hard exterior was a warm and open heart. When my strength failed me on the road, and I could walk no further, it was always Do'zaro who would lift me onto his shoulders and carry me until I could walk by myself again. He was the strongest fighter of the caravan, and the one time I tried to lift his enormous elven greatsword, I was only able to raise it a few inches off the ground. He had watched me with a quiet chuckle. 'That's a bit big for you to wield,' he had said, amusement glimmering in his eyes as he casually picked it up in one hand. 'Keep practicing, and one day maybe you'll bear a blade of your own.'

Jo'shadro might not have possessed as much physical strength as his cousin, but his skill in magic made up for it. He knew only a few basic spells, but he used them with talent and ferocity that saw his foes swiftly defeated. 'Khajiit are not born mages,' he told me once, 'but Jo'shadro has known Orcs that were thieves and Altmer who favoured two-handed weapons. Why should Jo'shadro not seek knowledge of the arcane? There is no such thing as an impossibility, merely what mortals are foolish enough to believe is impossible.'

There was very little to learn about S'resh, who was Azhanri's only son. He was kind and quiet, and had inherited his mother's skill with both blades and business. He alone of all of them encouraged me to believe that I could find Henja, and I was more grateful than can be imagined. The others did not condemn my quest, but I knew that they all thought that I was chasing a lost cause. S'resh's unfailing sympathy and compassion gave me strength.

And finally there was Zhevani. She was the only one of them not be related to Azhanri by blood, yet they still treated her as a member of the family, as she was engaged to S'resh. She was a shy creature who hardly spoke to me at all during my first few days with the caravan, though she did shoot me many a smile and a curious glance. As we neared Riften, however, she gradually began to open up to me and reveal a little about herself. She was not Skyrim born, as Do'zaro, Jo'shadro and S'resh were, nor did she hail from Elsweyr. 'Zhevani was born in Bravil,' she informed me. 'It is Cyrodiil's equivalent of Riften, only far, far worse. It is filled to the brim with pickpockets, drunkards, Skooma dealers and thieves. It is near impossible to get from one end of the place to the other without having your throat cut. This one left as soon as she was old enough to, and she has never once looked back.'

'You said it was like Riften,' I said uneasily. 'Is Riften that bad?'

'Our trading caravans may not pass through the city gates,' Azhanri told me, her voice containing a trace of bitterness. 'The Nords forbid it. We have never seen inside the walls of Riften, but we know much about what lies within.'

Zhevani's tail flicked. 'Riften sounds pleasant in comparison to Bravil. But the rumours of the place are not good. No, not good at all.' She shook her head forcefully.

'It is the home of the Thieves Guild,' Jo'shadro explained. 'They are a secretive organisation that dwells in the sewers beneath the city. It is said that they run the entire town, that without them, it would fall apart. They carry out their work all over Skyrim, but it is in Riften that they have made their home. That is where the city's sinister reputation comes from.'

I couldn't help but feel slightly edgy. This place was my destination. 'Do you think I'll have to worry about them?'

'People speak ill of the Guild, but they do not understand the truth.' S'resh shrugged slightly. 'They are not a simple band of criminals. They have a code of honour, and their rules are firm. No Guild member would dare to harm a child. You need not concern yourself with them.'

'No,' Azhanri told him dryly, 'he needs only worry about the corrupt guards, the ruthless businessmen, the witch who runs the orphanage and the complete lack of law enforcement.'

'Don't scare him,' Jo'shadro snapped. 'Riften is like any other place. You stay out of trouble and you keep your wits about you, and you need not worry.'

But I did worry. I worried constantly. I worried as I walked, as I sat around the fire, as I lay in the bedroll they had lent me at night. I worried that my father might somehow find me and punish me. I worried that Henja might be in danger. I worried about Marcella, and even about Prosperus, left behind to face my father's anger. I worried about the past, and I worried even more about the future.

But I never worried about the present. I knew that for the present, I was safe.

There was one thing that saddened me, that was constantly weighing on me, as if I were carrying a mountain on my back. It was a thought that was constantly whispering itself at the back of my mind, impossible to be ignored.

I barely knew these people. I had only known them for a few days. They had been strangers to me only a week before. We were not even of the same species. And yet they had treated me better than my own family. They had saved my life and given me shelter and safety. They had cared for me far more than my own blood kin ever had. And in truth, I felt closer to them than I had to my own father.

It did not surprise me. But it made me feel like crying. Azhanri, Do'zaro, Jo'shadro, S'resh and Zhevani had saved me from the wolves despite the fact that they did not know who I was, and to try and stop the wolves would put them in danger of dying themselves. Jo'shadro had healed me, and they had fed me and given me shelter. They had pointed me to Riften and offered to escort me there. They were treating me like one of them. My father had never shown me such kindness in all my life.

And yet, despite my worries and my sorrows, I was happy. I had finally broken free of my cage. My father could not nothing to me now. If by some terrible miracle he found me, I knew that the Khajiit would never let him take me. I had escaped at last. And even though there was nothing to confirm that Henja would be in Riften, having any lead at all was a start.

To be honest, I loved those days I spent with the caravan. Unlike so many other people who shared in my life, they never judged me, never tried to tell me how to think or what was right or true. They never tried to challenge my intentions, or attempted to persuade me to change my mind. They simply accepted me for who I was.

Too few people have done that to me throughout my life. Perhaps if we mortals were more willing to accept the fact that each and every one of us is their own person, that we cannot try to change who they are, we might all understand each other better. And if we all understood each other better, we might be able to get along. And if we could get along, then maybe we could hope for peace.

Easy for me to say, perhaps, when I have not been able to count myself as a mortal for years. But even if I am dead, a part of the shadows, I am still a scholar. And throughout my time on Nirn, I learned a great deal about the ways of people. And I know that those Khajiit are a lesson for us all.

That lesson, my friends, is this. We are all different. And if we accept that we are different, that we hold different values, that we fight for different beliefs, that we live in different ways, we may find that we are closer to being united than ever before.

* * *

'There it is.'

We drew to a halt at the crest of the hill, and Azhanri pointed down into the valley below, shielding her eyes from the blazing sun as she did so. 'We are here,' she called back, and I broke into a run, racing up the slope until I stood beside her.

'Is that it?' I gasped, breathless with excitement.

'That is it,' she confirmed, her whiskers twitching. 'Riften.'

A cloud covered the sun, and as the brightness in my eyes faded, I found myself looking down upon the city I had heard so much about.

It was small. That was my initial, somewhat foolish, thought. My next thought- perhaps even more foolish still- was that it was big. Then I thought that it was small and large at the same time, that it gave off an air of a large town that had been crammed into a small place, and was pressing against its walls, trying to burst out of them. It was almost as if the place had once been far larger, but the walls had started to shrink overnight, squeezing the city into a small space it could only just fit into.

'Welcome to the City of Thieves,' S'resh announced, his dusky brown fur ruffling in the wind.

'Yes, welcome to the city of corruption, law-breaking and crime,' Azhanri growled darkly. 'Welcome to the city where the criminals make the laws and the guards are in the pay of robbers.'

'No, the guards are in the pay of the Black-Briar family,' Jo'shadro corrected her.

Azhanri snorted. 'And the Black-Briar family are in the pocket of the Thieves Guild.'

'And for the last time, there is no need to worry about the Thieves Guild,' Jo'shadro told her firmly, though I sensed that the words were for my benefit too. 'They are no danger to any of us.'

'And they are very good customers,' S'resh added. 'They are our allies if they are anything, mother, not our enemies.'

Azhanri's eyes narrowed. 'That's as may be. But their influence has made Riften the last place on Skyrim that Azhanri would want to let a child into alone.'

'This one will be fine,' I told her, still stumbling slightly over my Ta'agra, despite the practice I'd been getting in the last few days. 'Let's just go.'

With edgy glances at each other, the Khajiit started to lead the way down the slope, towards the city. People began to gather around us as we joined the road, and I found myself walking closer to Do'zaro, unused to being surrounded by so many people. There were merchants, guards and citizens, elves, men and beastfolk, members of every race I had seen before and many of those I had not. I saw an Orc- more than twice my size and built like a bear- arguing ferociously with a guard, an Argonian carrying a crate of mead, and a Dark Elf woman on a jet black horse pushing through the crowd. I shook my head in amazement. I had thought that I had known a fair amount about the world, but I had never seen anything like this before. I had never even been able to imagine something like this.

'Hey, you! You cats!' One of the guards, a bulky Nord dressed in chainmail with a purple sash, was struggling through the throng of people towards us. 'What's your business in the city?'

I saw Azhanri and Do'zaro narrow their eyes, their fur bristling, and Jo'shadro muttered something unintelligible but clearly insulting under his breath. S'resh cast them all warning glances and stepped forward.

'Khajiit wishes you well,' he told the guard with a respectful nod. 'My kinsmen and I are here for the trading, as always. We do not seek entrance to the city, merely permission to camp outside the gates.' The bored way in which he said the words hinted that he had repeated them many times before.

The guard nodded slowly, sweeping his gaze over them. 'Usual wares, Azhanri?'

'This one knows what it is you're after. Fifty Septim,' the Khajiit replied briskly, rubbing her paws together.

'Fifty?' the guard repeated incredulously. 'That's more than I earn in-'

Do'zaro let out a low growl. 'You think we care? You know moon sugar from anywhere else tastes like skeever droppings. You want quality, you pay more. You want quality, you buy from us.'

'Take it or leave it,' Azhanri hissed.

The guard hesitated, then nodded and brought out his coin purse. 'Fifty it is,' he growled, tipping the money into Azhanri's palm. 'It better be good as you say it is.'

'Since when have we ever sold anything but the best goods?' Zhevani asked, her tail lashing.

'Enough. No more arguing. Take the moon sugar and be gone,' Azhanri snapped, handing the guard a few cloth packages. 'Now, if you'll move aside, we will pitch our tents.'

The guard pocketed the packets and slouched off. I cast a quizzical look at Azhanri. 'Isn't selling moon sugar illegal?'

'No, not at all.' S'resh shrugged. 'The moon sugar itself is harmless. It is only when it is refined into Skooma-' His lip curled- 'that it is against the law to sell it.'

'Some of the other caravans sell Skooma regardless of the law,' Zhevani added grimly. 'It is thanks to those fools that our kind may not pass beyond the city gates. Why complain about the Nords accusing us all of smuggling drugs, if you are going to smuggle drugs?'

'This one takes it that you don't sell Skooma, then.' I raised my eyebrows.

'Of course not!' Azhanri snapped. 'What do you take us for? We have no wish to make the Nords even more prejudiced towards us, thank you.'

'Are they really that bad?'

Jo'shadro's teeth clenched. 'There are some that would gladly drive us out of Skyrim for good.'

'But not all of them,' S'resh reminded him. 'There are some that welcome us. And as long as there are a few that welcome us here, then this one at least will be happy.'

'You would not say that had you ever set eyes on the sands of Elsweyr,' Azhanri hissed. 'There we may come and go as we please, and there is no northern wind to chill us to the bone.'

She led the way over to an open space not far away from the city gates. 'Do'zaro, unpack the carts,' she ordered. 'Jo'shadro, make us a fire. Zhevani and S'resh, you come and help me put up these tents.'

'What do you want this one to do?' I asked her, frowning.

She glanced at me. 'You can help Do'zaro with those crates.'

I made my way over to where the burly Khajiit was heaving the caravan's wares down from the wagon. 'Need a hand?'

He peered at me over the top of a pile of wooden boxes. 'You have Do'zaro's thanks. See if you can lift those parcels at the back.'

Gradually, the tents were pitched, the fire was lit, and the various wares that my companions had to sell were put on display. Noon was fast approaching, and the sunlight was warm on my back as I sat down, exhausted, on a crate and watched the steady stream of people in and out of the city. It was almost impossible for me to believe that there were this many people in a single city. I had never seen so many of them in my entire life. I wouldn't even have thought that there were even this many people in the entire world.

I sat there, watching men, mer and beasts as they walked on by, carrying on with their lives as if I simply did not exist. My eyes locked onto each and every one of them as they passed. I searched through them all, allowing none of them to escape my notice. Without moving, without speaking, I searched through the sea of faces for a single mortal. Every time I saw a flash of golden hair, my breath caught in my throat. But every time, I was disappointed. Not once did I see a pair of eyes the colour of the sky, or hear a sweet, merry laugh.

Henja was not there.

And in a city, a country, a world containing so many tens of hundreds of thousands of millions of people…

How in the name of the Divines could I ever hope to find her?

I swallowed down my fear and doubt. I'd come too far to start having second thoughts now. It was time for me to make my decision.

I did not want to make it. I was afraid to make it. The mere thought of making it made me want to run for my life and never look back.

But it had to be made.

The Khajiit caravan would only be staying outside Riften for a few days. Then they would leave, on their way north to the distant, snowbound city off Windhelm. I could take a look around the city while the caravan camped outside the gates. That part of the plan was simple enough. But if I could not find her, then I had two options. I could either leave with the caravan, and visit every city in Skyrim in turn. I could search each one. But all of the Khajiit agreed that unless the Snow-Walkers had any bindings to the other towns- and as far as I was aware, they didn't- Riften would be the best place to look. A few days might well not be enough to hope to search the town thoroughly enough. That gave me my second option- remain in Riften while the caravan moved on. I would be left in a strange city without anyone to turn to. But it would give me the time to carry out a proper investigation. And if I could unearth nothing, then when the caravan returned, I could go with them and move on to the next town. I knew full well that it put me at great risk, and that it might be months before the Khajiit returned to Riften. But I had been through all my options, and that was the only one that made any real sense.

I did not know what I would do if I could not find Henja. I had never thought past what would happen when I found her- it was my one and only objective, the only reason for living I had. If I could not discover where she was, then what use would my life be?

I shuddered, and was instantly ashamed of myself. I could not give in. I had not given in to my father; and I would not give in to myself. I had to keep fighting until I could fight no longer.

Noon had come and gone. I did not want to be in the city alone overnight. If I was going to venture inside, now was the time.

I got to my feet and looked at the others. There was already quite a large crowd around them, and Azhanri, S'resh and Zhevani were occupied with the buying and selling of goods. Do'zaro and Jo'shadro were standing a little apart from the others, fixing a warped wheel on the cart. They looked up as I approached with curious expressions. Do'zaro nodded, and Jo'shadro smiled slightly. 'Do you need our help, friend?'

_Friend. _I knew that it was childish, but I loved it when they called me friend. It made me feel so much less alone.

'This one is going,' I told them. 'Into the city.'

Jo'shadro got to his feet, dropping the wheel. 'Are you sure?'

I nodded. 'The best time would be now, before it gets dark.'

The two Khajiit glanced at each other. 'Be careful,' Jo'shadro told me, gazing right into my eyes. 'Keep all your wits about you at all times. Do nothing and say nothing without thinking it through. And look behind you. Never forget that. Always look behind you.'

I dipped my head. 'Of course.'

'Do'zaro would go with you if he could.' The dark-furred Khajiit sighed. 'But he cannot. So he will give your quest his blessing, pray to the Divines to smile upon you, and wish you all the best of luck.'

Jo'shadro nodded. 'And this one does the same.'

'Thank you,' I said quietly, bowing my head and fixing my gaze on the floor. I did not want to see the concern in their eyes. 'This one will return by nightfall.'

'The twin moons light your path,' Jo'shadro told me softly.

Unable to come up with a reply, I dipped my head to them and forced myself to turn away.

The few metres leading up to the city gates seemed like a thousand miles. Half of my mind was screaming at me that I had no place here, that I had to turn around and run. The other half was buzzing with excitement and eagerness, barely able to wait to see what lay on the other side of the gates.

'Stop right there, kid.' One of the guards- the same guard who had challenged the caravan earlier- stepped into my path, blocking my way with his battleaxe. 'You planning on entering the city?'

I nodded wordlessly.

'What's your business in Riften? You're a little young to be wandering around on your own.'

I desperately searched for an excuse, and quickly blurted out the first believable story I could come up with. 'I'm with Azhanri's caravan. She asked me to go and buy a few supplies, because the Khajiit aren't allowed in the cities.'

I saw his eyes narrow through the slits in his helmet. 'What's a runt like you doing with a bunch of Khajiit?'

'Does it matter?' I countered, deciding that the best defence was a good offence. 'Why do you want to know?'

'Because it's my business to ask questions,' the guard growled. 'And it's my duty to make sure that nobody goes into the city who shouldn't be there.'

'Is eating moon sugar part of your duty?' I asked innocently. 'Perhaps I should ask the Jarl.'

His eyes widened. 'No! No, there'll be no need for that. If you want to go into the city, then go right ahead.'

'Thank you,' I told him, smiling, and strolled past him, through the city gates.

And instantly stopped dead.

I suppose you will think me foolish for being so amazed by the sight that lay before my eyes. But I had never seen a city before, let alone entered one. The largest settlement I had ever seen was Falkreath, and that had been many years ago, so many that I barely remembered it. Riften was like nothing I had ever seen before. And though I have set eyes on many cities that some would say are a thousand times more beautiful- Solitude, perhaps, with its vast bridge of stone, or Markarth, with its spires and turrets, or Winterhold, where magic fills the air and the College teeters on the brink of collapse- I still say that no city has ever seemed as wonderful to me as Riften. For Riften was the first city I ever entered, and it is the only place I have ever thought of as my home.

If you cannot understand my amazement, friend, then try to see it through my eyes. Imagine that it was you. Imagine that you had left your home to seek a lost friend, and had arrived in the first city you had ever seen. Never before had you seen so many people, heard so many foreign sounds. This was the most incredible moment of your life.

Now do you understand how I felt?

I was abruptly snapped out of my reverie as a Nord man twice my size pushed me out of the way, and I nearly lost my footing. I quickly leaped out of the way, reminding myself that I had no time to admire the scenery. I had a friend to find.

There was a guard leaning against the wall nearby. Summoning up my courage, I tentatively walked over to him. 'Excuse me, sir…'

'What?' he snarled. 'I got no business with you, so get out of my face.'

I swallowed. 'Sir, have you seen a Nord girl? She looks about my age, but she's actually a little older. She's got blonde hair and blue eyes, and her name's-'

'And you think I could give a skeever's ass?' The guard smirked at my expression. 'Look, kid, if you don't want to talk about anything that might benefit the Thieves Guild or the Black-Briars, I'm not the man you want to be talking to.'

He turned his back and slouched off without another word, leaving me staring in bewilderment at his retreating back.

Damn. Maybe it wasn't going to be quite that simple.

* * *

'Still no luck?'

I was certain that S'resh knew what my answer was going to be from my face before I even opened my mouth, but I answered him anyway. 'No. This one has looked all over the city. He swears that he's searched every square inch of land in the entire place. He's asked anyone who hasn't refused to talk to him. But no luck. None. No one's seen Henja or her family, or even heard of them.'

S'resh bowed his head. 'S'resh is sorry, my young friend. More sorry than he can say.'

He put his arm around my shoulders and led me back towards the camp. 'We are leaving tonight, Gallus,' he said softly. 'You must choose whether you will come with us or stay here and continue your search.'

I said nothing, but I already knew what my choice was going to be.

I had been in Riften for three days now, searching the city while the sun hung in the sky and returning to the caravan when the moons rose above the horizon. No matter what I had tried, I had found nothing that might lead me to Henja. And yet I felt that I could not leave. I just felt that I had to stay. I could not say why. Perhaps the Divines were trying to warn me of something. Or perhaps it was simply because I had fallen in love with the city, despite its brash, unfriendly, aggressive citizens. I could have spent whole hours watching the sunlight shining through the golden leaves, or listening to the water whispering in the canal as I leaned against the side of one of the bridges. No matter how many thieves lurked in the shadows, or how many guards snapped at me to get out of their way, it would not stop me from loving the place. I felt as if I belonged there, somehow, as if there was some secret destiny that lay in wait for me there.

'Well?' Jo'shadro raised his head as I neared the others. 'Are you staying here, or coming with us?'

I did not hesitate. 'I have to stay.' I had been so lost in thought that I accidentally said the words in the common tongue, but I knew that they understood.

S'resh nodded slowly. 'This one thought as much.'

I opened my mouth, searching for the words to explain myself, but Azhanri interrupted me. 'We understand, Gallus. This quest of yours clearly means a great deal to you.'

'We will return soon,' Jo'shadro promised. 'And should you ever need us, we will help you in any way we can.'

I crossed my fists over my heart and bowed, in the way the Khajiit often did when they wanted to express gratitude that could not be explained with words. 'Thank you. My friends.'

Do'zaro got to his feet. 'We suspected that you would choose to remain here,' he told me, his deep voice filled with uncharacteristic sorrow. 'We would like you to have this.'

Zhevani nodded. 'To keep you safe. And to remember us by.'

Do'zaro held out a small object wrapped in cloth. My brow creased curiously as I took it from his hands and slowly unwrapped it. The dying light glinted on black and silver metal as the cloth fell away, revealing a leather sheath containing the most exquisitely beautiful weapon I had ever set eyes upon. It was a dagger- though almost as big as a sword in my eyes- made of night-coloured ebony engraved with swirling silver patterns. The sleek, curved blade rested in my hand, and I gazed into my reflection in the metal with wide eyes.

'We won't accept any refusal, nor any thanks.' Azhanri let out a throaty chuckle. 'You need it far more than we do.'

The words to thank them yet another time had been rising up in my throat, and I quickly pushed them down. 'May you walk on warm sands until we meet again,' I whispered instead, fighting back tears.

Do'zaro's face split into a smile, and Jo'shadro ruffled my hair fondly. S'resh placed a hand on his heart and lowered his head. Azhanri simply stared at me with concern, warmth, and something that might have been pride. Zhevani hesitated, then gave me a brief but heartfelt hug.

'You remind me of my two younger brothers,' she murmured. 'Not even half your age, yet with all your daring, and three times your mischief!'

S'resh regarded me with sad eyes. 'This one looks forward to our next meeting. There is something different about you, Gallus. You have intelligence far beyond your years.'

Jo'shadro nodded. 'If you ask Jo'shadro, you have been blessed with knowledge above that of other mortals. Perhaps the Divines themselves gave you your wisdom. This one feels that there is a great destiny in wait for you.'

I blinked. 'You think so?'

'You're no ordinary child, Gallus.' Azhanri folded her arms. 'You have the ability to make yourself a great future. The Gods smiled upon you at the moment of your birth.'

We stood in silence for a moment, then I felt that the time had come. If we prolonged this parting, it would be all the more painful.

'You should go,' I told them. 'Fair fortune.'

Do'zaro chuckled. 'Keep that knife sharp, and your mind sharper.'

'Twin moons shine upon you,' Azhanri said quietly.

S'resh nodded. 'Never forget, Gallus, that we shall be your friends until all the sugars of the world turn sour.'

My throat constricted. 'And this one shall always be yours.'

I watched them leave. I watched the moonlight turn their fur silver and red as they vanished down the road, into the golden trees. I watched as the only people in the world who I knew I could rely on disappeared into the dwindling light.

I did not know, of course, that they were right. I did not know that even then, my destiny had already been decided. That I had already been chosen. That all my talents had never been my own, but had been given to me long ago by a power so mysterious and ancient I could not even begin to understand it.

No. I did not know. How could I have hoped to know?

All I knew was that my only friends were far away from me. And I was suddenly very, very alone.

* * *

**And so Gallus enters the place where his destiny lies... *dramatic drumroll***

**Ok, I will stop with the melodrama long enough to say the usual thanks for reading! Next chapter: an old friend of ours returns, and Gallus encounters the Guild at last...**


	10. Guild

CHAPTER NINE

With slow, tentative steps, keeping to the black shadows at the base of the wall, I advanced down the alleyway towards my target. I kept my breathing light and quiet, and my footsteps soft, carefully trying to balance my weight so as not to make any sound. The tiniest crunch of a dead leaf beneath my foot, a pebble that was knocked aside and clinked against the wall, even a step too heavily placed- they could all make enough noise to alert my victim. And though Riften was a city where thieves were considered as common and insignificant as merchants or guards, and there would almost certainly be little penalty if I was caught, my pride would not allow me to fail.

Several weeks had passed since the caravan had departed, leaving me to fend for myself in the dark alleyways and bustling streets of Riften. And even though I was a newcomer to the city, I already thought of it as my home. It was a far better home to me than my family's house ever had. Here, it was easy to be invisible. No one knew me; no one paid any attention to me. I was just another street rat, completely unworthy of a second glance. No one cared about me at all- and I loved it.

I knew this city. I knew everything worth knowing about it. Anything I didn't know didn't need to be known. I knew where to hide from the guards. I knew when the perfect time was to break into the market stalls and open the merchants' strongboxes without anyone seeing me. I knew what times the guards changed, and at which times the guards on duty were the drunkards or careless ones, who could watch a crime happen right in front of them and not lift a finger to stop it. I knew my way around every alley and backstreet. I knew which houses could be broken into, and which could not. I knew everything a thief could ever need to know.

I wasn't ashamed of the fact that I had turned to stealing to survive. Was Riften the City of Thieves or not? And how else was I supposed to get by? I had no money to make a decent living for myself, and I knew that none of the businesses around the town would ever employ a skinny child like me. I had no other way of getting hold of food. I had the skills. Why not make use of them? As long as I kept to those rules I had set down long ago- to take as much as I needed, and never any more- I had no need to be ashamed of myself. What I was doing was the only option I had. No one could blame me for that.

And it was a thousand times, a million times more exhilarating, to steal this way. When I had stolen from my father, it had never really seemed all that bad. After all, it was my family's money, which made it, in a way, my money. But this was different. This was stealing the possessions of complete strangers. And there were actually real guards to chase me, real and serious punishments if I were to be caught. It made the thrill of the theft so much better. The risk, the challenge- they were so many times greater than before, and I could not resist them.

Only once before had I been seen. But that had happened because of a simple stroke of bad luck, and not through any fault of my own. The man whose purse I had been reaching for had dropped the bottle of mead he was holding just as my hand closed around the bag of coins. If he had remained still, my touch would not have been felt, but as he jumped back to avoid the flying shards of glass, he had knocked right into me. And then, naturally, he had seen me, and accused me of trying to rob him, and since I was standing right behind him with his purse in my hand, there was very little I could do to deny the accusation. And so I had run. The guards had pounded after me with many a bellowed threat, but their armour and weapons slowed them down, whereas I could dodge and weave through the crowd with ease. I had lost them within minutes, but the episode had taught me a lesson. Always be prepared for anything, and make sure you have an escape route.

It hardly mattered that the guards were on the lookout for me. I was free, and I was enjoying my life more than I had ever enjoyed it before. But there was one thing constantly weighing on my mind- and that was that I had seen neither hide nor hair of Henja.

It wasn't for lack of trying. I had searched every last corner of the city. I had asked so many people I had lost count. I had spent whole hours perched on top of walls or leaning against bridges, watching the people pass by and scanning them for a familiar face. But there was no sign. She was not in Riften. I was certain of it now.

I knew that eventually, the Khajiit would return, and I would have to leave the city with them. I had promised myself that I would find her, and I would. I would. Even if I had to cover every piece of ground in Skyrim, I would find my friend. But I could not deny the fact that I could not stop myself from feeling a twinge of sorrow whenever I thought of leaving Riften. My quest to find Henja would soon lead me elsewhere, but I had come to love this place. The thought of leaving saddened me.

Still, it couldn't be helped. I had to find Henja, and if I had to leave Riften behind in order to do it, then so be it.

But for now, I was going to enjoy the rest of my time here. Especially today. I had every right to enjoy myself today.

My intended target stopped abruptly, and I froze, wondering if he had heard my stealthy footsteps coming towards him. Then I smiled as I realised. He had blundered into my trap. I had left a single Septim lying on the ground ahead of him, its polished surface gleaming in the early morning sunlight. It was impossible to miss. Any moment now, he would bend down and pick it up. And that would be my moment.

Of course, this plan had its flaws. There was a risk that he might look around to see if anyone had dropped the coin. He might place the coin in the purse hanging from the back of his belt. But the latter was unlikely- why would he, when he could save time by simply slipping it into his pocket?- and the former more unlikely still. I had been watching this man for some time. The Breton was not only greedy; he was a newcomer to Riften, indeed, he was a newcomer to Skyrim itself. He had not heard the tales of Riften's notoriety. He had no reason to suspect anything. He did not understand how easy a victim he was to the thieves of this city. He was the perfect target.

He reached down to take it. My breath caught in my throat, and I darted in, keeping my footsteps silent. My knife glinted in my hand as I quickly cut the string holding his purse to his belt. It dropped into my hand. I backed away at the same moment as the man pocketed the coin and straightened up. He patted his pocket and walked on, completely unaware that he had been robbed.

I remained where I was standing, staying still until the man rounded the corner and vanished from sight. Prising the top of the purse open, I peered inside. I grinned as the glint of gold caught my eye.

'Happy birthday, Gallus,' I whispered.

I couldn't help but feel that my seventh year on Nirn was going to be one of the best of my life.

Today, I decided, I was going to treat myself. For once, I would allow myself to buy something with my money that I did not strictly need. A sweetroll. I hadn't tasted one in months. For that, I'd have to go to the food stall next to the market. I tucked the purse into my pocket- making sure that I could see it, or anyone trying to get to it- and set off for the marketplace. It would be fairly busy at this hour, but I probably wouldn't attract any attention. Over the weeks, I'd become a part of the city. I'd blended in with the crumbling walls and golden trees and never-ending bustle. I was as much a piece of Riften's soul as the canal or the Temple or the inn.

_I am a part of Riften, _I told myself, _and Riften is a part of me._

I pushed through the crowd until I was standing in front of the food stall. 'Excuse me…' I said nervously, standing on tip-toe to see over the top of the counter.

The food seller grinned down at me. 'Morning, young sir. How can I help?'

'Got any sweetrolls?' I asked hopefully.

He chuckled. 'Plenty. Five Septim each.'

I held out the money, and he dropped the ring of pastry into my hand. 'There you are. Take care, young'un.'

'I will,' I promised with a smile, and turned to go.

And without warning, a voice cut through the endless noice of the market, sharp, demanding and angry.

'Wait. I know you!'

I spun around. A guard was standing behind me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His gaze was fixed on me.

'Me, sir?' I asked innocently, though my heart was racing.

'Yes, you. Don't think I've forgotten the chase around the city you led me on. And don't think being a child lets you get away with your crimes.'

I opened my mouth to protest that he couldn't arrest me, since I hadn't actually managed to steal the man's purse, then realised that it might not be the best idea. 'Look, um, I think you're making a mistake-'

'There's no mistake. You've broken the laws of Skyrim and now it's time for you to pay.'

He drew his sword. For a moment, I stood frozen. Then my gaze travelled to the sweetroll resting in my hand, and within a second, I had made a plan.

I took careful aim and threw the sweetroll. It thumped against his helmet. Dough and icing sprayed everywhere, blocking the eyeslits of the guard's visor and blinding him. As he reeled back, spluttering, I dodged past the food stall and ran.

Ducking around the confused, startled citizens, I ran as if my life depended on it. Behind me, I heard the guard roaring at the top of his voice- 'After him!'- and my pace quickened. I wasn't certain where exactly I was going, but I was fairly confident that I could lose them, either in the crowd or in the maze of backalleys.

I hurdled the market wall and fled past the blacksmith's store, around the back of the Temple of Mara and along the edge of the graveyard. I could hear the clanging of metal and furious yells that signified that the guards were still behind me. And they were fast closing in.

Breathing hard and fast, I rounded a corner.

And a hand clamped down over my mouth, and someone pulled me backwards into the shadows of another alley.

I would have screamed if I could. Instead, I went stiff in my captor's grasp, my entire body transfixed with fear. Had I evaded town guards, only to be captured by some unknown foe?

'Keep still,' a voice whispered in my ear. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'

I relaxed a little, though my heart continued pounding like a drum.

'Leave this to me,' the voice continued. 'Don't move a muscle. Don't make a sound. I promise I'm a friend.'

Wordlessly, I nodded.

Whoever it was released me and stepped out in front of me. It was a woman, I could tell from the voice and the figure, but her back was to me, and I could not see her face. All I could see was that she was wearing black leather armour with shining steel buckles, and a matching hood. She looked almost as if she were wreathed in shadow. An elegant black bow engraved with silver was strapped to her back, alongside a quiver of arrows that looked to be ebony. And from the way she stood- her body poised and ready- I was somehow certain that she knew how to use them.

The guards appeared around the corner, weapons shining in their hands. They skidded to a halt as they saw the woman standing in the middle of the alley, standing fearlessly in their path, blocking their view of me.

'Oh,' the one that had confronted me said, stepping forward. A few pieces of icing dropped off his helmet. 'It's you.'

'I see you're a particularly observant man, then,' the woman said, a trace of amusement in her voice.

'Did you see a kid come past here?' The guard's grip on his sword tightened. 'Little Imperial runt. Dark hair. Red tunic.'

'Yes. I saw him.'

I pressed myself against the wall, shivering.

'Well? Where did he go?'

The woman placed her hands on her hips. 'I'm afraid I can't answer that.'

A few guards muttered to each other. 'Can't? Or won't?' one of them called.

'Won't. And unless you want me to ask Sereniel to get the Black-Briars to cut your pay, I suggest you leave the matter there.'

I frowned in confusion. What did she mean?

The guard sheathed his sword, his whole body tense with barely supressed rage. 'You Thieves Guild scum think you run the entire city.'

The woman tipped her head on one side in a thoughtful manner. 'Ah, but here the problem arises. I'm afraid we do.'

For a moment, they faced each other. Then the guard let out a low growl. 'All right. Stand down, men.'

As the others slunk away, he spat onto the stone path. 'This isn't over, thief.'

He followed his colleagues, and I was left alone with my saviour.

'Come on out,' she called. 'They're gone.'

I emerged from the shadows of the alley, looking at her in perplexity. 'Thanks for that.'

She turned, and I saw her face for the first time. She was a Dark Elf, a Dunmer. I'd seen them before, but never spoken to one, and never had a close look. Her skin was a pale bluish-grey, and her eyes… her eyes startled me. I had read about the curse of Azura, the curse that had turned the Dunmer's skin as grey as ash, and their eyes as red as blood. But I hadn't been prepared for the bright crimson colour that this woman's eyes were. They looked as if someone had replaced her eyes with a pair of rubies.

'Don't mention it,' she smiled. 'I'm always happy to help out a kindred spirit in their hour of need.'

My frowned deepened. 'Kindred spirit?'

She chuckled. 'I saw your little stunt a minute ago, with that fool of a Breton. Very effective.'

I blinked, and my bafflement must have shown on my face, because she laughed quietly and explained. 'I've actually had my eye on you for some time. I've seen you about the city, and I've watched you going about your work. Your intelligence and skill is most admirable for someone of your years.'

'I'm not that young,' I protested. 'I'm seven today.'

She dipped her head to me. 'Well, happy birthday.'

'Thank you.'

She smiled again and continued. 'Having watched you in action, I saw a lot of promise in you. I determined to speak to you as soon as I could. When I saw that guard corner you, I made up my mind to lend a hand. And it looks like it was a good thing I did.'

She looked at me intently. 'You're a natural thief. Who trained you?'

I hesitated. 'No one trained me,' I told her uncertainly. 'I taught myself.'

Surprise and admiration flashed in her eyes. 'You've got incredible talent, you know. Some of the people I know couldn't match your skill.'

'People you know?' I repeated.

She chuckled again. 'You might have heard that guard mention the name of the group I work for. The Thieves Guild.'

My eyes widened. 'I've heard of them.'

'Probably you heard negative things about us. Our work is mostly unappreciated.' The Dark Elf didn't sound concerned. In fact, I detected a hint of pride in her voice.

I hesitated. 'Not really. Some friends of mine said that you were misunderstood.'

'Your friends were right. The Guild isn't a band of criminals. We're a family. We work as one. We help the people of Skyrim in ways they couldn't imagine.'

She crouched down so as to be on my level, gazing into my eyes. 'What's your name?'

'Gallus,' I said uncertainly. 'Gallus Desidenius.' I didn't mean to say my surname, but it slipped out before I could stop it.

She nodded slowly. 'Well, Gallus Desidenius, I've an offer to make to you. I've spoken to my leader about you, and she agrees with me that your skills could be useful to us, especially if you were given a proper chance to develop them. I therefore extend to you a formal invitation to join our Guild.'

For a moment, I simply stared at her, too stunned to speak. Dimly, I wondered if my ears had been playing tricks on me. Join her Guild? Join the infamous Thieves Guild? The Thieves Guild wanted me, a child barely old enough to survive alone?

'I can see the surprise on your face.' There was sympathy in those scarlet eyes. 'Perhaps you don't understand why we would be so honoured to have you join our family. I will explain to you, Gallus. I assume you are an orphan?'

I wasn't. My father was alive, even if my mother was dead. But I no longer thought of him as my father. He might as well be dead to me. I nodded.

'Well, what more explanation do you need? You've got skill, you've got promise, you've got nerve, you've got daring, and most importantly of all, you've got wisdom and brains. You're Thieves Guild material through and through. Young though you are, you're already one of us- a master thief. I can see a great future for you with us. We'd be honoured to become your family. Of course this is your own decision, and you're entitled to refuse. But it would be wonderful if you accepted.'

A thousand and one thoughts raced through my head at once. If I accepted this offer, I would become bound to the Guild. Bound to Riften. I would never have to leave- but then, I might never be able to leave. How could I search Skyrim for Henja whilst bound to a single city?

But these people… they were the kings of Skyrim's underworld. Surely they might be able to gather some information on where Henja might be? And this woman, this woman who was so clearly an expert thief… she thought I had talent? She really thought that I could become like her?

And hadn't I always wanted a real family? A family that actually cared for me?

I stood there for a few seconds, struggling to gain control of my own thoughts. And then suddenly I heard my own voice saying, 'All right.'

The Dark Elf woman straightened up, her smile widening. 'Thank you, Gallus. You'll be a welcome addition to our ranks.'

I nodded dumbly.

With a final, secretive smile, the Dunmer turned, gesturing for me to follow her. 'This way. I'll take you to meet my Guildmaster.'

'Wait,' I called, swallowed nervously. 'Um, what's your name?'

She chuckled that soft, mysterious chuckle. 'Forgive me, Gallus. I should have told you that before.'

She dipped her head, her crimson eyes shining. 'My name is Dralsi. Dralsi Indoril.'

* * *

I tried to ignore the curious gazes upon me as I hurried through the Cistern after Dralsi. The vast underground chamber was the Guild's home, she had told me, a hidden haven for all thieves who served under the sign of the Guild. Its sheer size had taken my breath away upon entering. I had never expected a group of thieves to live in such a place.

'If you'll just step this way, I'll take you to meet Sereniel.' Dralsi was a fast walker, and I had to run to keep up with her. 'She's our Guildmaster, our leader. She's not all that strict, she just pretends to be, but you'd do well to listen to her and respect her and obey her if you're going to stay in the Guild. Her word is law, you understand? She's always ready to listen to advice, but the final decision about anything always rests with her.'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

Dralsi led me over to a wooden desk positioned on one of the stone walkways surrounding the pool in the centre of the Cistern. I was able to make out a figure leaning over it, but they were mostly blocked from my view by another Guild member, dressed in the same black leather as Dralsi, who was engaged in a hushed conversation with the person on the other side of the desk. At first, I saw nothing noteworthy about him, but then I noticed a long, scaly tail protruding from a hole cut in the back of his breeches. _An Argonian, _I thought, thrilled.

The world just kept on getting bigger.

'Sereniel. Blade.' Dralsi stepped up the table. 'This is the one I was talking about. He says he'd like to join.'

'Indeed.' The Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves Guild raised her head and fixed me with a long, intense stare. 'I see what you meant, Dralsi. He has wisdom in his eyes.'

The Argonian stepped back, and my gaze travelled between him and the woman behind the desk, taking them both in. The Guildmaster was a Wood Elf- another race I'd never properly encountered before- with long ginger hair, braided into an intricate plait that fell almost to her waist. Like Dralsi, she carried a bow and quiver, but her weapon was golden in colour, designed in an intricate way that made it look almost like a pair of wings. I recognised it as being made in the elven style. Her eyes were a deep leaf-green, and as she stared at me, I felt as if she were looking right down into my soul, seeing straight away who I was, breaking through all my secrets and barriers.

The Argonian, too, was regarding me closely. His scales were a light beige colour, flecked with darker brown. Instead of hair, his head was covered in dark tawny feathers, and two ram-like horns curled around the side of his face. His small, round eyes were the colour of burnished copper, and the pupils were black as night. A sword rested in a sheath buckled onto his belt. I could not see the blade, but the hilt was magnificent- shaped like a jet-black bird with its wings forming a circle.

'What's your name, Imperial?' The Wood Elf folded her arms, continuing to stare into my eyes. I found myself unable to look away.

'Gallus Desidenius,' I told her, trying to stop my voice from wavering.

The Bosmer nodded slowly. 'I am Sereniel, as I'm sure Dralsi's told you,' she told me in a low voice that was nonetheless commanding. 'I lead this Guild. I watch over all its members. I keep this rabble in check. You answer to me. Understand?'

I nodded vigorously.

'Good.' Sereniel gestured to the Argonian. 'This is Draws-His-Blade. Blade for short. My second in command. He's in charge when I'm not around. You respect him, and you obey him, because he might well end up leading this Guild one day.'

'No need to be so tough with him so soon.' The Argonian placed a hand on top of Sereniel's, and gave me a wide smile that exposed every one of his sharp white teeth. 'And you have no need to worry, son of Cyrodiil. Sereniel is not half as prickly as she makes out. And the Guild is a much more carefree place than you would believe from listening to her.' He spoke with a strange accent that I found oddly pleasant. He spoke every word carefully, his voice husky, giving every _s_ a long, low hiss.

'I didn't ask you your opinion, Blade,' Sereniel told him, but there was a small smile on her face.

'I know you didn't, Rie. Since when did you ever ask my opinion on anything?'

Dralsi smiled, and Sereniel rolled her forest-green eyes. 'If you want to join us, Gallus, we're asking for a lifelong commitment,' the Woof Elf told me firmly, gazing at me evenly. 'Of course, if you have a legitimate reason to leave us, we will respect that. But joining our ranks is to join our family. You don't walk out on us any more than you would walk out of your own family.'

I winced at the irony. 'Actually, I did walk out of my own family.'

'Maybe. But we're your family now. Your brothers and your sisters. You are one of us. And that's final.'

'I think he already understands that, Rie.' Dralsi took a half-step forwards. 'I explained to him why we wanted him. I'm certain he'll be at home here.'

Draws-His-Blade turned his head to me. 'I think we should be asking his opinion on this matter,' he said softly.

I swallowed down my doubts and fears and lifted my head, meeting the bronze, ruby and emerald gazes that rested upon me. 'I understand what you're asking from me,' I told them. 'And I'm willing to give you… well… everything I can, I guess.'

Dralsi smiled. 'Well, what more can we ask of you than that?'

Sereniel regarded me for a moment more, then her face broke into a smile. 'Then it's decided. Welcome to the Guild, Gallus Desidenius.'

'Thank you,' I replied, unable to stop a glimmer of pride from sparking in my heart.

The Guildmaster looked at Dralsi and Blade. 'So, who's training him?'

'I can train him,' Dralsi offered. 'I may only be staying here a few more months, but I'll be sure to pass on as much of my skills to him as I can in that time.'

Blade dipped his head. 'And I can take over from there.'

'All right. That's agreed. Dralsi, take him to Ahsla and get a set of armour sorted out for him.' She gave a small, amused snort. 'A very small set.'

'One moment. Before you go.' Draws-His-Blade looked at Dralsi, and there was an expression in his copper eyes I could not read. 'Do you still think that he's…' His voice trailed off.

'That I'm what?' I asked, feeling confusion and suspicion kindle inside me.

He did not reply. Dralsi gave a short jerk of her head. 'Yes. I do. Don't you?'

The Argonian paused for a moment, then both she and Sereniel nodded.

'Now I've seen him, I'm almost certain.' The Wood Elf pressed her hands together. 'I just hope we're right. And I hope that _she's _right too.'

She waved her hand at us, and I sensed that we had been dismissed.

'Come on,' Dralsi said, nodding to me. 'Ahsla should be able to make a set of armour in your size pretty quickly. She'll probably be in the Ragged Flagon.'

She set off again, and I hurried after her. 'What was all that about? What do you think I am? Who does Sereniel hope is right?'

'Don't worry about it, Gallus. It's nothing that concerns you. Not yet, anyway.' Her tone allowed no argument, no refusal.

'And what did you mean, you're only staying here for a few more months?'

Dralsi smiled in a way that was half joyful and half sorrowful. 'Just that. By the end of the year, I'm afraid I'll have left the Guild.'

'For good?' I gasped. Even if we had only recently met, I had already felt a strange sort of kinship to this woman.

'I'm afraid so.' The Dark Elf let out a small sigh. 'You see, a year ago, I gave birth to my daughter.' She smiled, and an expressions I can only describe as pure love crept over her face. 'Karliah.'

It was the first time in my life I ever heard that name. I could not have known that one day, the owner of that name would mean more to me than anything else in the world. How could I have known?

'Until recently, I've not been able to leave her. But now she can go a little while without me being there. I tried to see if I could fit in my Guild life around my family life, but I can't manage it. The Guild demands full commitment, and I can only give half of my allegiance to it now.'

'So you're leaving?'

'Yes. As much as I love the Guild, this isn't the place to raise a child. My husband, Elrandor, isn't a Guild member, you see. He owns a small farmhouse in Shor's Stone, north of here. He understands that the Guild's place in Skyrim is essential, but he'd never want to join himself.' Dralsi closed her eyes for a moment. 'I love my life here. But I love him and Karliah even more. My first duty is to them now.'

She was silent for a moment, then she shook herself. 'Not to worry. I'll teach you as much as possible while I still can, and once I've left, Blade will take over. He's a good man- well, a good Argonian, I suppose- a master thief, and a strong warrior. He'll mentor you wisely and well.'

Her red eyes shone with light and warmth. 'Come on. No time to stand around talking when there's work to be done. Let's find Ahsla and get you your armour, and then I'll take you to meet your new family.'

* * *

About three quarters of an hour later, dressed in the brown leather armour of a junior Guild member, I entered the Flagon.

Ahsla had turned out to me a quiet but friendly Redguard woman, who had taken one look at me and started to stitch pieces of leather together at the speed of a diving falcon. 'I can't promise it'll be a perfect fit,' she had said, 'because I've left you a little growing room. And it'll stretch a little as well, so as to last you longer. You'll find it a lot easier to move around in without making noise, and it's fairly lightweight. I've never had to make a set this small before, so feel free to tell me if there are any problems with it.'

She had been right- it was a little too large, but I was fairly certain I'd grow into it. It was a lot lighter and more flexible than I'd expected, too. It was a little stiff, but Dralsi assured me that with time, it would grow more supple.

'By the time you're old enough to fit it perfectly, it'll feel like a second skin,' she told me. 'Now, if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to the others.'

'How many of you are there?'

She frowned, and I could see her counting them up in her head. 'Around fifteen, I think. Not very many, perhaps, but we're the best at what we do. We don't need any more of us.'

'You said you needed me.'

She chuckled yet again, but did not reply as she led me over to a group of tables that had been dragged together to form a single large one. The Guild members were clustered around it, most of them clutching mugs of ale or mead, engaged in a furious debate that I was able to pick up as I got closer.

'There's no way around it. Black-Briar mead blows any other sort of drink right out of the water.' This was from a Nord man with dark red hair and a long, livid scar crossing his face. 'You don't get that sort of kick out of anything else.'

Draws-His-Blade, sitting nearby, shook his feathered head. 'Mead is all very well, but my loyalty lies with Argonian ale.' He swiped a long pink tongue over his lips.

Another Nord man, whose black hair fell to below his shoulders and whose ice-blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and mischief, shook his head. 'I'm quite fond of Cyrodiilic brandy, myself. It has a unique texture.'

'Aw, come on. Firebrand wine mixed in with Dragon's Breath mead. Any day.'

I looked in surprise at the third speaker. I had never in my life seen anyone like him before. My first thought was that he was a particularly burly elf; then I noticed that his skin was a pale dirty green. And he had… I couldn't stop myself from staring. He had tusks.

'Excuse me, sir,' I began, taking a hesitant step forward.

He raised his head, and his steel-coloured eyes burned into mine. 'I ain't a sir, kid. I'm Gurak.'

I swallowed. 'Um, Gurak. Are you an Orc?'

The entire chamber exploded with noise as almost every Guild member burst out laughing. 'Sure I'm an Orc, boy,' Gurak sniggered. 'What else would I be? You never seen an Orsimer before?'

I shook my head. 'And I'd never properly seen any Argonians, Bosmer or Dunmer before today.'

Gurak shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. 'You got a lot to learn, kid. But I reckon we're all ready to teach you.'

He stood up and leaned across the table, extending his hand to me. 'Guess I should introduce myself properly. Gurak gro-Damug, senior Guild member. Stealer of valuables, picker of pockets, and terroriser of town guards.'

I gave him a small smile, and there was more confidence behind it than before. 'Gallus Desidenius,' I told him.

As I shook his hand, I felt cold metal against my skin and glanced down in surprise. Unlike the other Guild members, who were wearing light leather gloves, Gurak's hands were armoured by a pair of thick, studded gauntlets, made in the typical Orcish style. They were dented in several places and had clearly been broken and repaired several times. I shuddered, despite myself. I didn't want to think about what a punch from one of Gurak's fists could do when they were protected by these.

The Orc saw me looking at his hands, and his grin widened. 'Guess you're wondering why a thief would want to go around in these?' he asked, holding up his hands so that the lamplight glinted on the metal.

I nodded.

Gurak patted his belt. 'You see me carrying a weapon, kid?'

I shook my head. 'No.'

'That's cause I neither want nor need one. A blade can break. A bowstring can snap. A spell can misfire.' His eyes narrowed, and the streaks of red warpaint on his face rippled slightly. 'But my fists have never let me down. They're all the weapons I need.'

I couldn't stop myself frowning. 'I don't mean to be rude or anything,' I said slowly, 'but if you value your weapons over your stealth, why did you join the Guild instead of the Companions or something like that?'

'A fair question. And I'll give you a fair answer.' Gurak dropped back into his seat. 'Partly because I'm a lot better than you might think at slipping things into my pockets without being seen. But also because the Companions have no imagination, and even less fun. Isn't that right, Orthwin?'

The red-headed Nord nodded. 'Gurak and I were both with them for a time. But they just had too many rules for us.' He snorted scornfully. 'Don't think the Guild's not got rules. But back in Jorrvaskr, it sometimes felt like we couldn't eat a sweetroll without scorning the laws of glory and dignity.'

The woman sitting beside him let out a loud, sarcastic snort.

Orthwin raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry, Elandine, did I say something amusing?'

The High Elf woman raised her head, a dry grin on her face. 'Ever tried working for the Thalmor?'

'No, and I'm not likely to,' Orthwin replied, his voice a low growl.

'Don't go getting your tunic in a twist, scarface,' the Altmer snapped, and I looked at her in surprise. I'd always read that the Altmer were a haughty, proud, dignified race. This woman did not seem to meet any of those criteria. 'All I meant was that if you'd ever served under the Thalmor, you wouldn't be complaining about the Companions.' She glanced at me and added, 'I don't want you to go thinking for one second I enjoyed working for that bunch of stuck-up snobs. I walked out five years ago. And I have no loyalty to them. None. Understand?'

I nodded dumbly.

'Calm down, El. Gallus never suggested that you did have any loyalty to them.' It was another Dunmer, a man this time, with skin the colour of a stormcloud and dark auburn hair. 'We all know you're one of us. As if you'd ever let us forget.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Well, I do seem to remember you telling us once or twice that you threw a sweetroll in Elenwen's face and told her to go to Oblivion,' the Dark Elf mused mildly. 'Or maybe a little more often than once or twice. Such as every day. Several times every day.'

The Guild members sniggered.

'Very funny, Sranys.' Elandine glowered at him, her yellow-orange eyes narrowed into slits.

'I wasn't trying to be funny. I was quite innocently stating the facts.' Sranys winked at me, and I found myself laughing for the first time since I had entered the home of the Guild. The elf held out his hand to me, and I took it without hesitation. 'I'm Sranys. Refugee from Vvardenfell, if you're interested.'

My eye widened. 'Vvardenfell? Have you seen Red Mountain?'

Sranys laughed. 'Naturally. It's rather hard to miss, what with the relentless volcanic eruptions and everything.'

'Sorry,' I said, unable to stop myself from blushing.

'No need to be sorry. Curiosity's not a sin.'

'A good thing, too.' A Nord woman let out a soft laugh, and I glanced at her. She had the same golden hair and blue eyes that Henja had, but of course that was nothing unusual. That kind of colouring was common among Nords. The only thing of note about her was the large black and white cat draped over her shoulders. 'Otherwise I think I'd have been in jail a long time ago.'

'I don't think so.' Sranys punched her arm lightly. 'They'd never get hold of you, Fjella. You're too damn fast for any guard to catch.'

'I hope you're right.' The Nord woman smiled at me. 'I'm Fjella. They call me Fjella the Unforgetting.'

'Unforgetting?' I asked, my brow creasing.

She laughed again. 'Don't ask me. I'm pretty certain it's not a real word. But this lot call me that, and I'm not arguing. They've called me that ever since the twenty-fifth of Last Seed three years ago.'

Blade grinned. 'There was... some confusion over who was the target in some mission she was on with Orthwin and Dralsi in Rorikstead. Orthwin insisted that they were after the man with the black tunic, and Dralsi said it was the one with the brown coat, or something like that.'

'It was Ivarstead, not Rorikstead,' Fjella corrected him patiently, 'and Orthwin lost the description of the target that Sereniel gave us. They couldn't remember what he looked like, but I knew for a fact he was a six-foot-tall Nord with blond hair tied behind his head in four braids. He had blue eyes, two scars on his right cheek, and a silver ring in his left ear. He was wearing a dark blue tunic and a red coat, and his name was Gjadrik.'

'You're making that up,' Elandine snorted.

'She's not,' Dralsi replied quietly. 'Orthwin found the instructions a moment later. They said exactly that.'

Fjella shrugged. 'It wasn't his fault. He thought he put them in his tunic pocket, not in his trouser pocket, and that's where they were.'

The cat on her shoulders opened his topaz-coloured eyes and let out a soft, drowsy purr. Fjella grinned and stroked his velvety head. 'This is Manji, by the way.'

The Breton sitting on Fjella's left let glanced at the cat, and let out a small sound that was less than a word but more than silence.

Fjella rolled her eyes. 'I don't care what you think about him, Silent. I'm not getting rid of him.'

The Breton snorted derisively.

'Silent?' I asked, looking curiously at him. He gazed calmly at me, and dipped his head.

'He hardly ever says more than five words in a single day,' Gurak explained, 'and he's never told us his real name, so we all just call him Silent. And he's never argued with it.'

'And what's your problem with Manji?' I adressed the Breton, thinking that even though he almost certainly wouldn't reply, it would be rude to ask one of the others why he disliked the cat as if he wasn't there.

For answer, he shifted slightly in his seat, revealing a large silver and white husky dog lying on the floor, fast asleep, its head resting on Silent's feet.

'Oh.' I looked from the cat to the dog in sudden understanding. 'Right.'

'The damn animal's called Whisper,' Fjella told me disdainfully, 'which is ironic, because the moment she wakes up, she starts barking.'

Silent shot her a dark look. 'Friend,' he said quietly, in a low, throaty voice.

'He means she's his friend,' the black haired Nord who had been extoling the virtues of Black-Briar mead explained. 'Whisper and Silent came to the Guild together, and they're always together. It's not Whisper's fault that Manji's plotting to kill him.'

Fjella sniffed. Silent stroked Whisper's head and said nothing.

'You two might try having a little consideration for each other.' The Nord shrugged. 'I'm Farmund Silver-Tongue, if you were wondering.'

'It suits him, too.' The speaker was the only member of the part not to have spoken up so far, an Imperial whose mousy brown hair fell over his hazel eyes. 'He could lie his way out of anything.'

'I don't lie, Sabinus!' Farmund looked outraged. 'I merely use words in a different way to most mortals.' He fixed me with an intense stare. 'Words are strange, miraculous things. I realised that long ago. And I also realised that they mean different things to everyone.' He turned to Silent. 'Let me show you. Silent, when you think of an animal, which animal do you think of?'

The Breton said nothing, but nodded towards Whisper.

'Exactly. And you, Fjella, you think of Manji, don't you.'

'Of course.'

'And you, Gallus. What's the first animal that comes into your head?'

I hastily spun my mind around, and it landed on the creature that my mother had told me was the most beautiful one in existence. 'A nightingale.'

'What?' Dralsi said sharply, her crimson gaze abruptly snapping onto me.

I looked at her, startled. 'A… a nightingale. You know, the birds…'

The Dark Elf stared at me for a moment longer, then slowly turned away. 'Of course. Carry on, Farmund.'

The Nord folded his arms. 'I rest my case. Gallus thinks of a Nightingale, Fjella a cat, Silent a dog. Myself, I think of a wolf. I expect everyone here would think of something different. That same word, animal, means different things for each of you. It's the same with every other word. To every person, they have different meanings. All I do is make other people understand the words in the same way that I do.'

Sabinus gave a slightly twisted grin. 'Which means you lie.'

Farmund shrugged and finished his mug of mead. 'Not at all. But if you choose to see it that way, that's your own lookout.'

'I, for one, don't think you can exactly call it lying.' Ahsla dropped into a seat beside Dralsi. 'It's just twisting the truth slightly, and using such complicated language that the guards can't understand a word he's saying and give up trying to arrest him, because it saves them the trouble.'

Farmund slammed his hand down on the table, making the mugs jump into the air. 'Thank you! You see, she agrees with me!'

Sabinus cast Ahsla a strange look I could not make head or tail of. 'I guess it's not completely lying,' he conceded. 'But it's definitely not telling the truth.'

'All right, Guild.' Sereniel's voice cut across the conversation, and I turned to see her leaning against the wall behind us. 'Fascinating as this little chat is, it's not getting any work done.' She rubbed her hands together. 'Farmund, Silent, Sranys, I've got a job for you up in Solitude. Orthwin, you should be halfway to Falkreath by now. That Bedlam job isn't going to wait for you. Blade, I need a word, as soon as I'm done with the others. Dralsi, don't you have a new apprentice to train?'

My new mentor got to her feet, smiling. 'It certainly seems that I do.'

The Guild members stood up to leave, casting wistful glances at their tankards as they went. As they passed me, several clapped me on the shoulder, and whispered into my ear.

'Welcome to the Guild, kid.'

'You're never too young to be a master thief!'

'Good to have you with us.'

'See you around, little brother!'

I watched with round eyes as they wandered away, their words swimming around my brain. And I felt a warm glow build up inside me, a feeling like nothing I had never experienced before.

If I had ever harboured any doubts that I had made the right choice when I accepted Dralsi's offer, they vanished in that moment.

These people were my family.

This place was my home.

* * *

**And finally, Gallus arrives in the Guild! I hope you enjoyed meeting all the new Guild members. A big thank you to ShoutFinder for helping me with creating some of them. I will - or Gallus will - introduce them in a bit more depth next chapter. Aplogies to anyone who found this chapter too long, but once I got started on that conversation between the Guild members, I just wasn't able to stop. And since it was flowing nicely, I just let it go on a little...**

**So, I'll be sure to get the next chapter up as quickly as I can. See you then. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Mission

CHAPTER TEN

And so it was that I arrived in the place that made me who I am today.

When I look back on that day, remember that quiet, uncertain child I once was, it is hard to believe that he and I are one and the same. It seems impossible that I could have once been him- that child was so innocent, so naïve, so unsure. He lived his life with wide-eyed eagerness, never once guessing how cruel a place the world could be.

I have learned the harshest possible way that the world can harbour dark secrets in the most unexpected places. In the hearts of mortals, for example. In the hearts of people you once thought of as your friends.

That boy did not know what a terrible place Nirn could be. Oh, he knew hardship, and he understood suffering. He knew far too much about oppression and grief and loss and heartbreak and pain. He knew harsh truths that no one that young should know. But he did not realise how much evil there is in this world. He knew that the hearts of mortals could be corrupted- had he not witnessed that himself?- but he did not understand how. He did not understand why.

Gods, how little I knew back then.

I knew that the world could be harsh, but I had no idea how harsh. I had lost my mother, but I still knew so little of death. I had never witnessed a death. I had never caused a death. And I did not understand betrayal. The one thing I simply cannot bear.

Perhaps that is why it was a betrayal that claimed my life…

Ah, forgive me my ramblings. It is hard for me to reconcile myself with that child. But then, is that not why I am telling this story? Because I wish to rediscover who I am?

I know well that the will that child had to learn and explore and discover has never left me. Neither has his eagerness or his enthusiasm for life. I share his wish to be free, his determination to be a slave to no one. And the inner fire that burned within him, the hidden warrior, the boy who knew how to fight… that same flame burns in me.

Dralsi was a wise teacher. Her wisdom and kindness and patience gave me so much. And one of the many things she told me was that a child who grows up around violence cannot help but become a fighter. Perhaps that is why there are so many warriors in Skyrim, a land that seems to be constantly at war…

Perhaps, if my mother had not died, if my father had never hated me as much as he did, I would never have become who I am. I might have become like Marcella or Prosperus. I might never have picked up a sword. Or a lockpick.

Maybe, then, I should be grateful for the harshness of my childhood. It shaped me into who I am.

A scholar, a thief, a warrior, a Nightingale. A Guildmaster. A lover, too, for however painfully short a time…

There is no doubt that if it were not for my father's rage and hatred, I would never have found the Guild. I would never have become a Nightingale, nor a Guildmaster. I would never have met Karliah. And I would not exchange any of that for anything, not for the entire world. If I could go back to the beginning, relive my life, I do not think that there is anything I would change.

Because pain and loss and anger and treachery- they define us just as much as happiness and love. My father's fury seemed like a curse to me whilst I had no choice to endure it, but it became my making. The friends who I lost, their deaths and their departures taught me how to appreciate the living friends who were still with me. My death at the hands of Mercer Frey… well, it tore me away from my Karliah. It banished me to linger in the shadows of the Sepulchre, not knowing what had become of my love, nor of the Key, or the Guild, or anything that was happening outside the walls of that temple. It broke my little Nightingale's heart, made her forget who she was, forget what she was fighting for… very nearly made her forget me.

Of course I cannot blame her for that. I know that if our places had been reversed, if it had been her, not me, who Mercer had chosen to take out his fury and grief and despair on, it is almost certain that I, too, would have become lost.

But even so, my death lead to great things. It saw the Key returned. The Nightingales were restored. The Guild was given a new leader, a strong young warrior, twice the mortal I was, who could lead them into a bright new dawn, a new age, a new future. Because I died, the Guild lived.

And the painful years that the two of us have been separated will only make our reunion all the more wonderful when it finally comes.

Yes. Though I am sorry that I had to die, I know that it was necessary.

Perhaps for Karliah and I, it meant the end.

But for our Guild, for the Nightingales, for our friends and our family, it was only the beginning.

Yet again, my mind has wandered… but perhaps that is a good thing. I am not a one to simply recount the story of my life as if it were a bedtime tale. No. This is not only a story, it is my life, and if I can, I will see you learn and change just as I learned and changed.

The people who share your life are the people that shape it. Perhaps I will become one of those people for you. Perhaps you will learn from the mistakes I made and the battles I thought. Perhaps my tale might help you discover who you truly are.

I do not know whether it will. All I know is that what changes a mortal is what a mortal allows to change them.

And I allowed the Guild to change me beyond all recognition.

* * *

Very quickly, the hidden sanctuary beneath the streets of Riften changed from a strange new world to my home. And the people that inhabited it turned from strangers to my family.

The longer I spent with them, the more I learned about them, the more I got to know them. Sereniel was our Guildmaster, the one who kept us all together. She gave the orders; she handled the business. Her word was law, her authority was unquestioned, and her decision was final. And yet, once I came to know her better, I saw that Blade, Dralsi and all the others had been right. That hard exterior masked a soft and kind heart. She thought of us almost as her children. Every decision she made, she made for us, even if the consequences were agonising for her. We were her life, and I knew that she would gladly die of any of us. I learned to respect her more than I had respected anybody until then.

And then there was Draws-His-Blade. I knew from endless books on the subject that the Argonians were named after their characters, their personalities and traits. It spoke volumes that Blade had been named for his skill in battle. He never went a day without practicing on the hapless training dummies, his sword catching the lamplight and shining like moonbeams forged into metal. He would dance and weave around the target as if it were fighting back, his entire body poised and moving like lightning. He would duck under an imaginary sword, sweep aside an invisible shield, and bury his blade into the dummy's chest with a long hiss of triumph. He would step back, sheathing his sword, and turn to see us all standing and staring at him. He would dip his head and give a light, modest chuckle, before wandering off to talk to Sereniel, or to practice his lockpicking. But the Guild's second in command was more than a fighting machine. He was calm, quiet and patient, always sympathetic, always understanding what his fellow Guild members were feeling. There was no surprise that he had risen to his position. There was no one better.

As for Dralsi, I soon learned that I could not have been given a better teacher. Her talent was only matched by her wisdom and patience. She treated me as if I were an adult, yet she never pressed me to achieve what she knew I could not do. 'One step at a time,' she told me regularly. 'Overcome your limits one by one, and never look too far ahead or behind.' It was advice I was only too willing to obey. Gradually, the gentle Dunmer woman taught me to perfect my skill in lockpicking, pickpocketing and sneaking. Under her guidance, I learned how to become almost completely invisible. I already had the skill, but Dralsi developed it. She brought out every last scrap of talent I possessed and made sure that it shone. For her, there was no excuse for me not trying my best, or not accomplishing what she knew I could achieve. Though her Guild attendance was patchy- she left every evening to return to her family- she still honed my skills to near perfection.

Gurak I soon came to think of as an older brother- or at least, how I imagined a proper older brother should be. Prosperus had ignored me as much as possible, and when he was not ignoring me, he was ridiculing me. Gurak, on the other hand, was gruff and often prickly, but I soon realised that he was immensely fond of me, and unlike my blood brother, he went out of his way to make sure that I was happy. It was Gurak who found me a place to sleep, who showed me around the ratways, who took me before the captain of the guard- who was in the Guild's pay- in order to inform him that I was a Guild member, and not to be harmed in any way. Unlike many of the others, the Orc never questioned my right to be in the Guild. 'So you're a kid. Makes no difference,' he told me once. 'You're a thief, you're a Guild member, and you're my brother in crime. That's what matters to me.'

I rarely shared any conversations with Ahsla, who was kind but fairly shy, and rarely spoke up. When she did, however, whatever she said was always worth listening to. She was supportive of me, in a quiet way, but I always got the impression from her that she was uncertain about someone so young being involved in such dangerous work. Still, she seemed to appreciate that it was my choice to make, and my life to live, and never challenged my place. She was also, I realised, close friends with Dralsi. When Dralsi was not training me, she spent much of her time with the Redguard woman, swapping stories about days gone by. I often listened, revelling in the tales of excitement and danger, and my heart ached for the time when I would know enough to embark on such missions myself.

Elandine was a mystery to me to begin with. At first, I simply could not match this shrewd, dry-humoured, assertive and sharp-tongued woman to the mental image I had always had of the Altmer. But I gradually accepted that she was an exception to the usual sterotype, and once I had, I began to feel a strange kinship to her. Like me, it seemed, she was an outcast, a misfit, a rebel. She had been born into the Thalmor, was the story she told, and she simply could not fit in with the people around her. They were proud and haughty, always giving themselves airs, and Elandine had simply not been able to stand it. Somehow, she had been born different. And like me, she had eventually snapped and broken free of her cage. And a good thing she had- her skill with magic was invaluable to the Guild.

There was only one Guild member I found it hard to get along with, and that was Orthwin. Perhaps it was because I could not understand him, nor what he was doing in the Guild. His respect for the art of stealth was practically non-existent. His remedy to being caught by a guard was not to smooth-talk or bribe his way out, nor even to turn and run. It was to take his vast warhammer and smash the guard over the head. He had too little patience to be able to pick a lock- he always tried to force it and ended up snapping the pick. He could not pick a pocket, either- his complete lack of stealth always gave him away. He was openly contemptuous towards me on occasion, and I soon found myself trying to avoid him. When I asked Dralsi what he was doing in the Guild, she'd laughed. 'Can't you tell?'

'No. I could pick a lock better than him blindfold. And he has the stealth skills of a mammoth.'

'He's the intimidator. If an asset's being uncooperative, or someone's not giving us the money they owe us, we send Orthwin around to deal with them. He doesn't hurt them, he just scares the sh-' She glanced at me, seemed to remember my age, and corrected herself. 'Scares the, um, sense out of them.'

'He doesn't seem to like me all that much.'

She'd smiled. 'Gallus, he's jealous. He can't stand the fact that a seven-year-old is a better thief than him. Give him time. He'll come round.'

One person who did not need to come round was Farmund. The black-haired Nord had not only accepted me, he was unreservedly enthusiastic about my coming to the Guild. 'Think of all the possibilities!' I overheard him telling Orthwin once, as the scarred intimidator began complaining about me again. 'He's the perfect asset. Nobody suspects a child! Imagine, Orthwin. We're trying to break into a house, but the owner's inside. They wouldn't open the door to a stranger, but they would to a boy. He lures them outside, we clobber them over the head, we break in and wipe the place clean of anything remotely valuable! What's not to like about having him with us?'

Orthwin hadn't replied. I hoped it was because he hadn't been able to come up with an answer, but in my heart I was certain that it was because he knew, as we all did, that it was pointless trying to argue with Farmund. It was impossible to win an argument with him. Something about the way he spoke would confuse you and baffle you and make you come around to his point of view, no matter how hard you tried to fight back. He had never once been arrested. All he needed to do was talk for long enough, and the guards would give up and leave.

There was one person who could argue with Farmund and win, and that, strangely enough, was Silent. With a single word, spoken softly and yet commandingly, the Breton could somehow conquer all opposition. Nobody knew why Silent was so reluctant to speak. Gurak thought it was because there were things in his past that pained him so much he had all but given up speaking. Orthwin said he was too stupid to string more than a few words together, but I could see the intelligence in Silent's eyes, and knew that it was not true. Dralsi shook her head when I asked her, and simply replied that there were some things you didn't ask people. Blade's theory was the one I favoured. He, like Gurak, thought that he might be in mourning for something, or someone, that he had lost, but the Argonian was convinced that Silent was not only lost in grief, but lost in thought. 'Most of us mortals look outwards,' Blade had told me. 'We look out at the world, out at other people. When we do look inwards, it is only every a quick glance. Whatever Silent has lost has changed all of that for him. It is too painful for him to look out, so he looks in instead. He's looking so far into himself that he barely sees the outside anymore.'

'Is that bad?'

'Who can say? Perhaps if he looks deeply enough, Silent shall begin to move past whatever it is that pains him. Or perhaps it shall do nought but deepen the pain. We cannot know. It is Silent's choice whether he moves on or remains in the past.'

It was hard to know what Silent thought of me, but he sometimes shot me an appraising smile, so I eventually decided that he had no problem with my presence. I was glad. Silent was strange, but for some reason it was impossible for me not to like him. Perhaps it was simply because I felt sorry for him. I cannot say. I went out of my way to be friendly to him, but with little response. Though Silent was a much-loved brother to all of us, it was only Whisper he was close to. Maybe because of the fact that the dog did not judge him and did not care that he barely spoke, Silent treated her like a sister.

He wasn't the only one who treated their animal better than the humans around them. Fjella was rarely seen without Manji draped over her shoulders, like a furry black-and-white shawl with gleaming yellow eyes. The presence of both a cat and a dog in the Cistern made for some heated arguments, and the friendship between Silent and Fjella was strained. Still, when she wasn't fuming with rage over having to climb up yet another tree to rescue Manji, who had fled the Cistern and darted up it in order to escape the over-excited husky, Fjella was probably one of the most friendly Guild members. Easy-going, relaxed, and with an almost constant smile, the Nord woman was a friend to us all. I knew that she, like Ahsla, wasn't fully convinced that I was old enough to be in the Guild, but she soon came round. She had a slight tendency to by clumsy, but she could pick a lock like lightning. And she never forgot a single thing. It was almost uncanny.

Fjella's closest friend was Sranys, the Dunmer refugee from Morrowind. He had come to Skyrim after the eruption of Red Mountain, and had never left. 'I miss Morrowind,' he confided in me once, 'but even though I do dream of going back there some day, I don't think that day will be for a long time yet. My home's here, my friends are here. What more could I ask for?'

I was glad that he wasn't leaving any time soon, because I quickly grew to like him enormously. He was a master at the art of stealth, and was quick with both bows and swords, but best of all, he was genuinely a good person. It is rare that you will meet someone who it is impossible not to like, and when you do meet them, you may well find that it is because they seem to like everyone and everything else that they are so likeable. That is how it was with Sranys. He never questioned, never pried, never judged. He simply accepted everyone for who they were. He had a smile for everyone, and he went out of his way to make me feel at home. Occasionally, he even took me into the training room and started teaching me how to use my dagger. The lesson quickly became more of a show, with me watching, eyes wide, as Sranys displayed his combat skills. He was almost as good as Dralsi when it came to archery, and his skill with a sword rivalled Blade's.

I'd stared in amazement as he dusted off his weapons. 'How did you get so good?'

The Dark Elf had merely shrugged. 'Fighting runs in my family. My parents were both warriors, and I have a nephew in the Companions.'

'In the Companions? Does he know Gurak and Orthwin?'

'Search me. You'd have to ask them.'

'Why are you here, then, rather than in the Companions?'

He'd laughed. 'For the same reason Gurak and Orthwin aren't with them, and Elandine isn't still with the Thalmor, and Silent didn't take his skill with magic to the College of Winterhold, and you ran away from your family. I'm a rebel, Gallus. So are you. So of all of us. So is every thief. It's in our blood. It's who we are.'

And finally, there was Sabinus, the only other member of my race in the Guild. The Imperial was quiet, keeping himself to himself, and I saw little of him. We would exchange a nod and a smile from time to time, and at one point Sereniel asked him to give me a quick lesson on dagger combat, but otherwise we seldom spoke. He was naturally withdrawn, I supposed, and I did not try to make him emerge from his shell for fear of offending him. The few times I did manage to get a few words out of him, I learned a lot about him very quickly. He had a good heart, yet an uncertain mind. He had talent and skill, but he lacked the confidence to use them. It didn't help that his mentor was Gurak, who hated underachievement of any kind, but Ahsla was a good friend to him, and he opened up around her. Still, I sensed that he preferred to keep his distance from most other people, and I respected that by keeping out of his way.

So many people, all so different. And yet I was a brother to all of them. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had come home.

There was one thing that I soon realised they all had in common, and that was that they simply couldn't work me out. It didn't bother me all that much- in fact, it amused me. Occasionally, I would stop and listen to a conversation on the other side of the Flagon, one that they probably thought was too quiet for me to hear.

'I just don't understand that kid.'

'How is he that smart?'

'Don't ask me.'

'How old is he again?'

'Seven.'

'_Seven? _By the Hist, he acts twice that!'

'I know. If you told him to act his age, he's one of few people who'd regress.'

'It's unnatural. That's what it is.'

'He says all his family are like that.'

'Does it matter? He's a damn good thief and he's one of us. Who cares if he's ahead of his years?'

'I care. Don't you think it's a little weird?'

'Sure I do. But it doesn't make much difference to me.'

'Well, I have a theory.'

'You do?'

'Spill the beans, then, Dralsi.'

But the Dunmer woman had simply smiled her mysterious smile, shrugged, and shaken her head, and whatever her theory was, I never heard it.

It did not trouble me that I confused them. But it did make me begin to wonder.

Was I really all that different?

And if so… why?

* * *

About a month after my arrival in the Guild, I awoke to find Dralsi standing over me, twirling her bow around in her hands.

There was nothing so very unusual about that. Dralsi often arrived in the Cistern early, to make up for her hasty departures every evening. But her stance was business-like, her eyes were shining, and there was something about her that instantly promised some form of excitement.

I blinked up at her blearily, and she smiled. 'Meet me by the stables in ten minutes,' she said simply, and raced away before I could so much as open my mouth to inquire why.

I shrugged, hauled myself out of bed, and went to try and find some food. I wasn't certain anyone else would be up this early in the morning, but Sranys and Blade were both sitting in the Flagon, discussing the advantages of light armour versus heavy armour as they wolfed down their breakfast. They both glanced up and beamed at me as they saw me. 'You're up early,' Sranys called.

'Dralsi woke me up. She told me to be at the stables in ten minutes.'

The Dark Elf and the Argonian exchanged knowing glances. 'Of course. She mentioned having something special planned for you,' Blade smiled.

My brow creased in confusion. 'What sort of something?'

Blade chuckled. 'You've not been out of Riften yet while you've been wearing Guild colours. Am I right?'

I nodded. 'Dralsi keeps saying that once she thinks I've learned enough she'll take me out on a mission in another Hold.'

Sranys winked. 'Well, there you are. It seems she thinks you've learned enough.'

I stared at him in blank amazement, the apple I had just been about to bite into suddenly forgotten. 'You think so?'

'Well, can you think of any other reason why Dralsi would want to wait outside in the cold for you?'

I felt excitement blaze through me in a relentless inferno. Dralsi really thought I was ready? She trusted me enough to take me with her on actual Guild business?

'Do you know where we're going?' I asked eagerly, looking from the Dunmer to the Argonian.

They both shook their heads. 'You'd better ask Dralsi,' Sranys grinned. 'And I'd hurry if I were you. You've got five minutes left.'

For a moment I simply sat there staring. Then I shoved the apple into my pocket and ran.

I dashed back into the cistern and up the ladder leading to the outside- nearly knocking over Orthwin as I went- out into the city, and through the already-crowded streets. A few guards cast me baleful looks as I sprinted by them, but I ignored them. Today, I was finally proving my worth as a Guild member, and all the guards in Skyrim couldn't stop me.

I arrived at the stables to find Dralsi waiting for me, leaning against the wall. 'I'm here,' I panted, skidding up to her.

'I can see that,' she replied, her mouth twitching in what might have been the beginnings of a grin. 'Come on. I've fixed a fare for us with the carriage driver.'

'Where are we going?' I asked, as she led the way to where the coachman was waiting.

'Whiterun,' she replied, in a low voice so as not to allow anyone else to hear her words. 'Sereniel wants us to break into one of the outlying farms.'

I couldn't help feel a flash of disappointment. I had heard and read a thousand tales of Whiterun's splendour and beauty, and I had longed for many years to witness it for myself. 'So we're not going into the city?'

She chuckled that soft, smiling chuckle. 'It's a long journey from here to Whiterun, and it'll be best not to break into the farm until nightfall. I daresay we could spare the time to make a short detour inside.'

I felt my grin growing wider.

'Whiterun, is it?' the carriage driver called as we neared him.

'That's right,' Dralsi affirmed.

He nodded. 'Climb in back and we'll be off.'

My mentor helped me up into the back of the wagon before clambering up herself. 'How long a journey, do you think?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'Usually takes about six hours, if we don't run into any wolves.'

'Six hours?' I echoed, unable to disguise my horror.

'Sorry, Gallus. I know you get bored easily.' Dralsi gave me an apologetic look. 'But it's the only way to get you there and back safely. Why do you think we're setting out so early?'

I glanced at the sun, which was only just beginning to show above the horizon, and listened to the first experimental calls of the waking birds. I hadn't realised exactly how close to the beginning of the day it was. 'I'll manage,' I shrugged. 'Catch up on some lost sleep.' The recent weeks had been exhausting for me. I had been waking up earlier and falling asleep later than I ever had before, and the tiring training sessions during the day had sapped my previously boundless energy.

'Good idea. I might do the same.' Dralsi gave a wry smile. 'My Karliah's still waking me up in the middle of the night, bless her. I love her like anything but she doesn't seem to appreciate that her mother needs her sleep.'

The coachman flicked his whip and the horse threw his weight against the harness, making the carriage lurch into movement. I grasped the wooden side and peered out at the woods around us, watching the trees roll by. 'Wake me up when we get there,' I murmured to Dralsi as I felt my eyes slipping shut.

She chuckled yet again. 'I will, if I'm not asleep too.'

Sleep reached out with soft, lulling hands, tugging me down into a peaceful oblivion.

* * *

It was a long journey. The distance was not all that great, but the mountains and cliffs that dominated much of Skyrim blocked our way and forced us to take a long and winding route. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to gaze at the beautiful landscape, to see part of the land I'd never yet seen. I awoke after three or four hours, giving Dralsi plenty of time to quietly fill me on the mission. There was no need to worry about the coachman overhearing, as like most of the workers around Riften, he was in the Guild's pay.

'We're going to a place called Chillfurrow farm,' my teacher explained, pulling the list of instructions Sereniel had given her out of her pocket and holding them out to me. 'It's on the outskirts of Whiterun, owned by a family of Redguards. Fairly wealthy bunch, renowned for being the most stuck-up and snobbish family in the area. They won't miss a few hundred Septim, and the citizens of Whiterun probably won't be sorry to see them taken down a few pegs.'

'Are we just breaking in and clearing the house of valuables, then?'

'Well, we do have a specific target. Sabinus is particularly gifted at finding out the locations of valuable goods around Skyrim, and he's got wind of a jewelled candlestick or something like that in the far. We're taking that, and anything else we take a fancy to. Part of our mission is to reinforce the Guild's presence in Whiterun. Can't have them thinking that they're safe from us.'

We rounded a corner, leaving the thick curtain of trees, and I let out an involuntary gasp. Ahead of me was a sight I had seen in a thousand pictures but had never imagined I would see with my own eyes.

The great central plain of Skyrim was spread out in front of me, stretching ahead in every direction as far as the eye could possibly see, a rolling, endless blur of yellow-brown. A gust of wind blew the clouds away from the sun, and as its light shone down on the scene below it, the grass of the plains rippled and shone like an ocean of liquid gold. Jutting out of it, like a strange, jagged lighthouse, or a lone island, was a vast hill of stone. Nestled upon it was the second city I had seen in my life. Whiterun.

Dralsi smiled. 'It's quite a sight, isn't it?'

'It looks so open,' I breathed. 'And so big!'

She laughed. 'It's not all that much bigger than Riften, actually. But it's a lot more impressive.'

I shook my head. 'Riften's the best city in Skyrim,' I proclaimed loyally.

She laughed. 'How can you pass a judgement like that when you've only ever seen one city properly?'

I shrugged. 'It's my home.'

The Dark Elf leaned back against the side of the cart. 'I'm glad you think so. But there are plenty of cities just as beautiful as ours. You wouldn't believe the majesty of Markarth. All that ancient Dwemer stonework. Or Solitude, with the Blue Place on a vast bridge of stone. And then there's Windhelm, old as the mountains surrounding it, and Winterhold, where the air tastes of magic.'

I looked eagerly at the gradually growing smudge on the horizon that was Whiterun. 'Well, the air here tastes of opportunity.'

Dralsi beamed at me. 'That's the right attitude, Gallus. All of Skyrim's a free for all, as long as you know where to look and the right way to go about it.'

She reached into the bag of supplies she'd brought with us and pulled out a bundle of clothes. 'You'd best put these on over your Guild armour before we go into the city. The Guild leathers don't raise an eyebrow around Riften, but here in Whiterun, it's a different story altogether.'

The carriage driver took us as far as the stables before he drew the cart to a halt. 'There you are. Whiterun, and in good time,' he called back to us, sounding satisfied.

My mentor nodded and tipped our fare into his palm. 'You have our thanks.'

She leaped down from the cart and started to lead me towards the city gates. 'Keep your head down,' she murmured. 'The less the guards see of you, the better.'

'What happens if we get caught?'

'We improvise. It's an infallible strategy.'

I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

The guards, to my surprise, didn't shoot us anything more than a quick glance as we passed through the gates. Perhaps in this place they had less reason to be vigilant. It was a strange feeling, to be in a place where thieves were not only uncommon, but hated and loathed rather than tolerated and welcomed. How two cities in the same land, seperated only by a few mountains, a tundra, and a six-hour cart journey be so dramatically different?

'Welcome to Whiterun,' Dralsi announced, as she closed the gates behind us.

I stood still for a few moments, looking around me with wide eyes. At first, the streets seemed far more empty than those of Riften, but I soon realised that it was because of the was the city was sprawled out over a wider area, with wider paths and open spaces, rather than the fact that there were more people. It was quieter, too, than the city of thieves, far from silent yet nothing like the usual clamour that I was used to. A few merchants were calling out from a distant marketplace, a smith was slowly beating at a lump of metal on his anvil to my right, and a dog was barking somewhere. Much as I loved Riften, with its crowds that were so easy to disappear into and the ceaseless babble that confused the guards, I could not deny that the peace of this place had its own kind of beauty.

'I'll show you around. Chillfurrow farm's only a few minutes' walk from here, and it'll be best to wait until it's properly dark. We've plenty of time.' Dralsi strolled up the street and into the marketplace, with me hurrying along behind her. 'Up here is the Gildergreen, a tree sacred to Kynareth. It's descended from the Eldergleam-'

'The oldest living thing in Skyrim,' I interrupted, remembering the books I had read while still with my family, 'and possibly the oldest in all Tamriel.' I looked in awe upon the spread of its beautiful branches. It was strangely humbling, to be in the presence of something so majestic and sacred.

'And up there,' Dralsi added, pointing, 'is Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions.'

I let out a long, thrilled breath. 'I've heard about that, too. It used to be a ship commanded the Nede warrior Jeek of the River, and his men. They were some of the most favoured warriors of the Five Hundred Companions of Ysgramor. They found the Skyforge here in Whiterun and decided to stay, and they made their ship into their home.'

'That's right.' Dralsi nodded approvingly. 'Seems you know a lot about ancient history.'

I nodded. 'I love learning about how people lived and thought in days gone by.'

The door to the great ship-hall opened, and a pair of Nords emerged, their swords slung casually over their shoulders. Their faces were scarred and their stances were those of pure warriors. I shook my head in admiration I did not even try to disguise. 'How do they even move with that much armour?'

Dralsi looked at them disdainfully. 'Don't ask me. I can't understand why anyone would want to burden themselves with that much gear.'

'I can see why Gurak and Orthwin would have fitted in there for a time,' I told her.

She nodded in agreement. 'Yes, so can I. But they've got the minds and hearts of thieves, even if they do have the bodies of warriors.'

We stood in silence for a moment longer, then Dralsi shook her head, as if trying to shake off her reverie. 'Come on, then. Let's try and find an inn and get something to eat.'

She turned to leave, and suddenly stopped dead.

For a moment, I was confused. Then I realisd that my teacher had abrutply found herself confronted with a tall, sinewy Redguard man dressed in expensive clothes, who was regarding her in the same way that one might look at a skeever or mudcrab.

'It's not often we see your kind here in Whiterun,' he drawled, pressing his hands together in a thoughtful manner. 'What brings you to our city, greyskin?'

I saw Dralsi's jaw clench and her hands curl into fists, and her rage was mirrored in my own mind. What right did this man have to insult her in such a way?

'Business,' my mentor replied stiffly.

'Business. Hmm.' The Redguard nodded slowly. 'May I ask with whom?'

'You may,' Dralsi said quietly, a sudden, threatening edge to her voice. 'But you will not be receiving an answer.'

'I'm here for business too. With the Jarl.' The man smiled in a nastily wolflike way. 'I'm on my way to the Cloud District right now. Do you get to go there very often? Oh, what am I saying? Of course _you _don't.'

He sauntered away without a backwards glance, his nose in the air.

I stared after him in a mixture of anger and confusion. 'What was that all about?'

Dralsi sighed. 'I'm afraid some of the people here in Skyrim are prejudiced against my kind. I've had to get used to it.' She smiled dryly. 'It may comfort you to know that it's that man's farm we're breaking into tonight.'

'Good,' I said forcefully.

'I think his name's Razaht. He's an advisor to the Jarl, and rather too proud of it. From what I've heard, his son's just the same.'

I grinned at her, anticipation and excitement beginning to mount inside me. 'Then they need to be taught a lesson.'

'They do indeed, Gallus.' Dralsi rubbed her hands together. 'And they'll be receiving one. Tonight.'

* * *

The lock slid into place with a quiet click, and I pushed open the door with a trembling hand.

Night had fallen, smothering the world in thick, inky blackness. Silence had fallen with it, and every sound made my body tense in alarm. Dralsi had assured me that we would not run into any trouble, but I wasn't convinced. What if I did something stupid and gave us both away?

'Come on.' Dralsi gave me a gentle push, and I crept forwards into the farm. The Dark Elf followed behind, her footsteps almost silent, her breathing soft. I fixed my eyes on her, trying to copy her technique perfectly. How was it possible for her to be so quiet, so stealthy?

'You check upstairs.' Her voice was barely audible, and I had to strain my ears to make out the words. 'Go gently, and slowly. If you see anything you like, take it. Meet me back here in a few minutes. If you get caught, whatever you do, don't shout my name.'

'I wasn't planning on it,' I hissed.

'I know, you're smarter than that. Hoot like an owl or something to warn me, and make a break for it. Try your best to keep your face hidden. They'll be more hesitant to apprehend you, seeing as you're so young.'

I dipped my head. 'Got it.'

'Then let's get moving.'

She slipped around a corner and disappeared. I swallowed, knowing that the blood had drained from my face, but began to ascend the stairs, horribly aware of the creaking of the floorboards and my unsteady breathing as I went. I reached the top and was faced with a choice- turning left or right. I picked left, for no apparent reason, and peered into the room ahead of me.

I have a philosophy. Actually, I have several philosophies, but this is one of them. You should always try not to swear. Not only because it's rude and unpleasant, but because if you swear too often, at times when you don't fully mean it, it won't mean anything when you really do mean it. That's why I always do my best not to swear, even when it's incredibly tempting.

I looked into the room, and swore.

Admittedly, I swore rather mildly, and in a quiet voice, but I still swore. Not exactly the done thing for a seven-year-old, even a thief, but in this case I believe it was justified.

Because the arrogant fool of a Redguard was asleep in the room right in front of me, beside his wife. And right beside their bed, resting on a small table, was the jewelled candlestick we had come all this way for.

Instantly a thousand and one questions rose up inside my mind. Did I have the stealth skills to cross the room without waking them? Could I slip the candlestick into my bag without making any noise? And if so, would I be able to make it back into the corridor without making a floorboard creak and alerting my unsuspecting, oblivious victims?

I decided that the answer to all three questions was probably no. But I also decided that if I was going to prove my worth to the Guild, then I was going to have to try.

Slowly, softly, keeping to the shadows, I snuck across the floor, excitement and fear battling within me and my entire body trembling. A million voices were screaming inside my mind. _You shouldn't be here! You shouldn't be trying to do this! You'll never manage it!_

I ignored them. 'My name is Gallus Desidenius,' I whispered. 'I am a member of the Riften Thieves Guild and I can do anything I put my mind to.'

The thought comforted me, calming the emotions burning within me, and giving me the courage to cover the last few feet. I was standing beside the table now, and the candlestick was gleaming up at me, almost begging to be stolen. The familiar burst of thrilled eagerness burst through me as I gently lifted it from the table and slipped it into my bag, every movement I made slow and cautious-

Razaht's wife stirred in her sleep. I froze. She let out a long sigh and fell still. I breathed again.

I turned to leave.

And Razaht opened his eyes and stared right at me.

I saw his confusion mingle with shock, and swiftly turn to anger. He hurled himself out of bed and advanced across the room towards me, his hands clenched into fists. My heart began hammering against my ribs, and I unthinkingly backed away, until I found myself with my back to the window.

The window. I glanced outside, and a smile spread over my face.

'Sorry to trouble you,' I said casually, and pulled the window open. 'I won't keep you any longer.'

I let out a loud, clear owl-hoot, hoping that Dralsi would hear it, and leaped from the windowsill.

It was quite a risk to take, but I had judged my jump perfectly. I landed with a thump and an explosion of dust in a large hay-cart that had been parked directly beneath the window. Thanking all and any Divines that were listening for my stroke of good fortune, I sprinted around the front of the farmhouse, to see Dralsi explode from the doorway and race towards the road.

'I got it,' I panted. 'I don't know what woke him up. Sorry.'

'No need to be sorry. We got the job done,' Dralsi told me breathlessly. 'Get behind those rocks over there. They'll never find us in this darkness. Thanks for the warning, by the way. You make a very convincing owl.'

I laughed, the sheer joy of the theft banishing my fear.

We sheltered behind the rocks until we were certain that no one was in pursuit of us. Only then, when silence had fallen once more, did I open my bag and lift out my prize, holding it up so that it gleamed in the light of the twin moons.

'A job well done,' Dralsi told me appraisingly. 'You should be proud.'

I was proud. Proud beyond measure. Even if I had somehow woken up the Redguard, I had still managed to single-handedly break into the house, sneak through it undetected and steal my target. I had accomplished my first mission and escaped almost flawlessly. Now I, too, could swap stories of my deeds with the others as we sat around in the Flagon. Now I could wear my dark leather armour and know that I had earned it. Now I could gaze around the Cistern and know that I could unreservedly call the place my home.

I had accomplished my first mission. I was a true Thieves Guild member now.

* * *

It was another long, gruelling journey back to Riften, but one well worth it. Dralsi vanished almost as soon as she arrived, no doubt to return to Shor's Stone and check on her family, which left me to hog the limelight when I announced our success to the assembled Guild. Sereniel gave me a rare, approving smile, Gurak clapped me on the back with such force I nearly fell over, Sranys, Fjella, Farmund and Blade cheered, and Silent, Elandine, Ahsla and Sabinus nodded slowly, apprasing smiles on their faces. Orthwin watched from a little way away, scowling, but I could tell from his expression that he was impressed.

Sabinus soon left to sell the candlestick, promising me as he did so that a generous cut of the profit would be mine. Gurak raised his mead mug, calling out my name, and my heart swelled as the rest of the Guild echoed him, their voices echoing around the Flagon. I looked upon the faces of my brothers and sisters, and I knew in my heart then that I had come home to my family.

As I departed, to return to my bed and get some well-earned rest, I heard Silent speak up from behind me. His voice was quiet, and I doubt he realised I heard him, but his words- the longest sentence I'd ever yet heard him speak- made me stop dead, my eyes widening with wonder.

'He's a good kid.'

I felt like I had grown a foot in height.

* * *

**Argh, I'm so sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I am thouroughly ashamed of myself. I've just had a LOT of work to do recently, and it's been hard to find the time to write. I hope this won't continue, but it might, so updates may be slower from now on. Sorry.**

**I edited the interior of Chillfurrow farm a little, to make the chapter work. I couldn't resist having Nazeem's father being the target, because I simply can't stand him. (Nazeem, I mean, not his father, who I made entirely by myself.) **

**The length of the carriage journey I had to work out myself. Fast travelling from Riften to Whiterun on foot is twelve hours, so I thought it was reasonable for a carraige journey to be half that time.**

**And finally, I'm about to make a poll on my profile, because I'm interested to find out something. Now you know them all a bit better, who's your favourite of my OCs? Please, please, please, take a moment to vote! I really want to find out who you like best. I'm including characters from both this story and the prequel, and almost every character will be an option, even the ones who I know will never get voted for. **

**Sorry for the long author's note, and for the wait. I promise to try and get the next chapter up soon. Thanks for reading!**


	12. Destiny

CHAPTER ELEVEN

There is something that I was once told that I have never forgotten. I will never forget it. I do not think I can forget it. The words are burned into my memory, each and every one, and to let them slip from my mind would be as impossible as fighting with a broken blade, or singing without a voice, or flying without wings.

I will whisper it softly, so as not to let the rest of the world hear it. It is a secret that only the true of heart and spirit will understand. A fool, or an evil mortal, may understand the meaning, but he shall not take it into his soul and never allow it to escape from his memory. He shall not learn from it, maybe not even believe it. But if you have a warrior's heart, a pure spirit, a mind where no evil can lurk, then you will understand.

It is a beautiful and wonderful secret, and it is this.

Do not be afraid if shadows cloud your path. For you alone can make a light to banish them.

It was Dralsi, of course, who told it to me. A strange thing, is it not, to tell a thief? For a thief, as you know, treasures the shadows above all else. It is the shadows that guide us, hide us, and protect us. They shield us as much as they hinder and frighten lesser mortals. They are our friends and our allies. Why else do we say what we do? Eyes open. Walk with the shadows. And it is advice that even the most foolish and clumsy of thieves always obeys when they can.

But of course, it is metaphorical, symbolic. It is not actual shadows that might cloud your path and block your vision, but the dark side of life. The troubles, the fears, the regrets and the sorrows. The deaths, the betrayals, the losses and the trials. All the things that test us, all the things that we fear. Those are the shadows that cluster around us and hide our horizons. We cannot see what lies ahead, and we do not know where our path is leading. We lose sight of our goals. We find ourselves lost and alone in a sea of darkness and grief and terror.

And yet we are never truly lost. Because it lies in our hands to break through those shadows. It is we who must find the strength within our hearts to keep going. If we can find faith in ourselves, then we can create our own light to outshine the darkness. And then our path will be lit up once more, and we will be able to see our destination. And because we lost sight of it for a time, it will look brighter and more beautiful than ever before.

That was but one of the many words of wisdom that Dralsi passed on to me. She was so wise, so patient, so caring. Under her guidance, I was taught so much. That soft voice in my ear and that gentle hand on my shoulder taught me far more than all the books in the world could possibly have hoped to achieve. She didn't limit what she challenged me- she challenged my limits. She challenged them every second of every minute of every hour of every day, with every word she spoke and every move she made. She pushed me to the very boundary of what I could achieve, and sometimes even further. Her wisdom turned me from a lost boy to a child who was already on the way to becoming a man.

And the best part of it was that I loved it. It was impossible to be bored, impossible to lose concentration, impossible not to be thrilled by every new lesson. I did not endure her teachings, I revelled in them. I knew that they were changing me, making me stronger, faster, wiser, bolder. I could feel myself changing; feel myself becoming a new person. I soaked up her teachings, drank them in as if I had been wandering in the desert for weeks and her words were offering me water. And I welcomed that change. I treasured the feeling of growing into someone new. I wanted to leave behind the Gallus Desidenius who had been a scared Skeever, keeping to the shadows to avoid pain and fear, uncertain of who he was and where he belonged. I wanted to escape all of that, and become a new Gallus, a brave Gallus, a daring Gallus. I wanted to be a true member of the Guild. The people who shared my new home with me were the most amazing people I had ever met. And I wanted more than anything in the entire land of Skyrim to become one of them.

And I was becoming one of them. Slowly, subconsciously, without even fully realising, I was leaving behind the boy I had once been. Part of it was physical. Bit by bit, I grew into my armour without noticing. The scar that my father had placed on my cheek soon ceased to be my only lasting injury, as I quickly picked up wounds on my wrists and hands from the shards of lockpicks that went flying as they snapped. My stamina increased, and I no longer felt exhausted as I collapsed into bed at the end of another hard working day, merely a little worn out. I grew stronger, slimmer, taller and faster. But the greatest changes were the mental ones, the subtle changes that took place in my head without me even noticing them. My child's mind was replaced little by little by a Guild member's mind- shrewd, cunning, always weighing up the people around me to see how much of an easy target they would make, always looking out for an opportunity.

Of course, I had not forgotten my past. Not a day passed by when I did not think of what I had left behind. Sometimes, I had to slip out of the Flagon and find some quiet corner of the Ratway where no one would see me cry. Remembering Marcella calling after me made my heart twist within my chest. She cared for me, and she had been the only member of my family after my mother died who had ever shown me some affection. And she almost certainly thought that I was dead. It was impossible not be ashamed of myself, and guilty. But this was my life now. What was in the past was in the past. I knew in my heart that I would never see my sister again.

And Henja. Of course I had not forgotten Henja. So far, I had only confided in Dralsi my real reason for coming to Riften. She had listened carefully and seriously- yet another wonderful thing about my mentor was that she was a good listener- and promised that she would do her best to unearth some information. She had spoken to several Guild contacts all over Skyrim, but as of yet, no leads had been found. Every time Dralsi took me aside to tell me that there was no word yet, I felt another layer of gloom settle inside me. I was slowly beginning to come to terms with the fact that I might well never find her.

It was not a cheering thought, but I knew that, though harsh, it was the truth.

It did not stop me from enjoying my life. I knew that the search for Henja was out of my hands now. I could trust Dralsi to do whatever could be done. If Henja could be found, then I would have everything I could possibly have wished for. And if she could not, then… it would be hard, and painful, but… it would not be the end. I had a home now, a family, friends. I was happy. I had a purpose in life. I would never forget my bold and fearless friend, never forget the way that bright, merry laugh rang through the woodlands, or the way mischief flashed in those sky-blue eyes, or the way the sunlight glowed on that golden hair. No. I could never forget Henja. But if I never found her, then it would not tear me apart, as it would have done before I found the Guild. The friends I had made here, in this secret sanctuary beneath the city, had filled the hole the loss of my friend had torn in my heart. I would miss her forever, but I could still be happy.

Yes. I had come home when Dralsi led me into the Cistern on my seventh birthday. Sereniel, Blade, Dralsi, Gurak, and all of the others- they were my brothers and sisters. I had run from one family, straight into the arms of another. And I was glad I had. These people felt more like kin to me than any of my blood kin, except for Marcella, ever had. For the first time in my life, when I looked into my future, all I saw was light. For once, there were no shadows clouding my path.

But what I did not realise was that even this place, this new family, had its own secrets. Even my own brothers and sisters could lie and hide. And there was one secret that the people I trusted more than anyone else in the world had been keeping from me.

It was a secret about many things. It was a secret about the past, the present, and the future. It was a secret about themselves and about me. It was a secret about this world and the next. It was a truth I had never even imagined, one that I stumbled on without warning. No warning at all.

I shall begin at the beginning. For is that not where every tale starts?

* * *

Night. The sky was dark outside, and the stars were scattered through the heavens. On the surface, the city slept. And down in the Cistern, the hidden underworld of thieves was slumbering too. The lamps had been extinguished, shrouding the chamber in darkness, and nothing was moving apart from the shimmering drift of water. The silence was unbroken, apart from the steady, splashing hiss of water falling from the pipe on the wall into the pool, and the faint sound of Orthwin and Gurak's snores drifting over to me from the other side of the Cistern.

I couldn't sleep. I did not understand why I couldn't. Darkness was simply refusing to take me. I wasn't even tired. Perhaps it was because of how little action there had been in the day- a little lockpicking practice with Dralsi in the morning, a quick mission robbing a market stall with Sranys and Ahsla in the afternoon, and an evening spent in the Flagon discussing the history of the Empire with Sabinus, Fjella and Farmund. To a Guild member, that was a quiet day, free of the usual long journeys to other towns or mad dashes around the city walls to escape the guards. No, I was not tired at all.

Looking back on it now, I believe that maybe I was meant not to sleep that night. Perhaps _she _was watching, hidden in the shadows of another realm, and she decided that tonight was the night, that my time had finally come. Perhaps she kept me awake so that I would see, so that I would discover, so that I would uncover the secrets that she knew I had to learn…

Because that was my destiny, not my fate. And I could not possibly have avoided such a destiny.

Perhaps that was why I was lying with my eyes open, when the rest of the Guild slept. Perhaps that was why I was staring dreamily out into the Cistern, watching the shadows dance over the surface of the water. Perhaps that was why I saw the murky figure that suddenly moved in a corner, and raced over the walkways in a blur of darkness.

I blinked, my brow creasing, and looked again, wondering if I had been imagining things. But no, there he or she was, now standing beside Blade's bed. My frown deepened as I recognised them. It was Dralsi. That was strange. She seldom spent nights with the Guild, preferring to travel home and see her family. Maybe she'd decided to stay here overnight, seeing as that job she'd done in Ivarstead had taken so long. But why was she still awake?

I watched, my breathing soft yet suddenly strangely loud in my ears, as Dralsi shook Blade awake. The Argonian's eyes snapped open instantly, and his gaze locked onto hers.

'There is no need to tell me,' he whispered, his copper eyes narrowed. 'I heard it too.'

'We have to get Sereniel.' I had never heard Dralsi sound so worried in all my life. 'We have to leave now.'

I stared in astonishment. Leave? Why on Nirn would they want to leave?

'I will get her.' Blade swung himself out of bed and buckled his sword-belt over his tunic. 'You prepare our horses.'

Dralsi nodded. 'Hurry,' she told Blade. 'We don't have much time.'

I watched in perplexity as Dralsi sprinted towards the ladder that led to the surface, and Blade ran to wake Sereniel. Why in the name of all the Divines would the Guild's three most senior members want to leave now, in the middle of the night? Why go without telling the rest of us? Why the urgency? The fact that they were going on horseback hinted that either they needed to travel a long distance, or they needed to move with all possible speed. Maybe both. But why?

A third figure appeared from nowhere, and the pale, watery light shone on Sereniel's glossy red hair. 'I know, Blade,' she called in a low voice, as the Argonian started towards her. 'I heard her.'

The Guild's second ran his hand over the hilt of his sword. 'Dralsi has gone to get our steeds ready. We will go to the Hall at once.'

Sereniel glanced at the rest of us, slumbering unaware. I quickly closed my eyes, suddenly desperate for them not to realise that I was awake.

'I hope it doesn't take too long. This lot will start wondering where we are.'

'That's a risk we'll have to take.' There was a rustling noise, as if the Argonian was shifting from foot to foot in his anxiety. 'We have no choice. We never do, we never have, and we never will. It is one of the prices we must pay.'

'We'd better hurry.' The Guildmaster's voice was strained from tension. 'If we're too late, she'll never forgive us.'

'Then we must make sure we are not too late.' I heard footsteps breaking into a run as Blade replied. 'We must do our duty, just as we always have done.'

Sereniel murmured something incomprehensible in reply. I dimly made out the sound of them clambering up the ladder and throwing open the trapdoor that led to the outside world. Then silence.

I lay still, eyes wide, heart thumping, mind racing.

What in Oblivion was happening? What reason could their possibly be for this? Sereniel, Blade and Dralsi were undyingly loyal to the Guild. They would never leave us alone unless there was a reason. And an important reason, at that. From what I had overheard, it sounded as if they had been summoned. But who was the mysterious 'she' that they had referred to? To whom did they owe a loyalty greater than their devotion to the Guild? What, and where, was the Hall that Blade had spoken of?

What worried me most of all was what Blade had said. _We have no choice. We never do, we never have, and we never will. It is one of the prices we must pay. _What had he meant by that? Why did they have no choice? If they had never had a choice before, had they deserted us in this manner several times already in the past? Were they planning on doing it again in the future, if they never would have a choice? And what was the price they had to pay? Pay for what?

So many questions. And no answers. No answers at all.

I expect that you, my friend, have heard enough of this story to have learned for yourself that I am the sort of mortal who craves knowledge and understanding. I cannot allow any question to go unanswered. To do so almost physically pains me.

And so, do you think that I did what I should have done? Do you think that I realised that this was not my secret to uncover, not my question to seek answers to? Do you think that I did the sensible and reasonable thing to do, which was to close my eyes, forget about what I had just heard, accept that it was nothing to do with me and try to get some sleep?

Of course I did not.

No. I did the most impulsive, reckless, foolish, childish, idiotic, thoughtless, and rash thing I could possibly have done.

I slipped out of bed, pulled on my boots, grabbed my dagger, and followed them.

Out of the Flagon, into the streets of Riften. They were almost deserted, as they usually were at this hour of the night, save for a few long-suffering guards who gave me wary nods as I passed, along with orders to 'keep out of trouble, Imperial.' The reflection of the twin moons glistened in the murky water of the canal as I snuck over the bridge and through the gate. I had not really thought about what I was doing; indeed, I had not considered it for a moment. I just felt like I had to do it.

Perhaps I was being driven by destiny. Or perhaps I had just taken my fate into my own hands.

I arrived at the stables, but there was no sign of my fellow Guild members. It did not surprise me; I knew that they would already be long gone. Their horses were the strongest and swiftest in the Guild. But Dralsi was a thorough teacher. She had not only taught me the skills of a thief, but the skills of a survivor. 'You never know when you'll need them,' she had said.

And she had been right. Because the lessons she had given me in tracking were about to pay off.

The hoofprints were easy to follow. There had been three horses, all moving at speed. They had left a clear and easy trail. A child could have followed it. And a child did follow it. Without looking back, I drew my knife and moved off into the woods, following the tracks.

They led to a path- a small, winding path cut into the mountainside. Intrigued though I was, I couldn't help feeling a little indignant. I had thought that I'd known everything there was to know about Riften. How could a trail like this exist so close to my home without my noticing? I followed it with my heart pounding against my ribs, and my entire body trembling with excitement. I did not know what I was going to find, nor how Sereniel, Dralsi and Blade would react if they saw me. I had a feeling they would not be delighted to find that I had followed them on whatever top-secret mission it was that they had embarked on.

But I had come too far to turn back now. And I simply had to know what was going on.

And then I saw it. Ahead of me. Set into the base of a cliff, so cleverly wreathed in shadow that it was barely visible. Standing just beyond a vast stone monolith. Hard to spot, and easy to miss.

A door.

A door in the side of a cliff.

And tethered to the trees in front of it were a trio of horses.

A grin flickered across my face. I had definitely come to the right place. If their horses were here, then Dralsi, Blade and Sereniel would be here too. Wherever that door led, that was where they were.

I hesitated, suddenly uncertain. Was I really that hungry for answers that I would place my life into the hands of the Gods and venture into the unknown behind that door? What could lie behind it? I could not even begin to imagine. What would happen if I were to enter?

For a few seconds, I dithered, unsure of myself. Then I glanced up at the vast standing stone to my right. It was a thick, tall finger of rock, many times my height, with a strange symbol carved into its surface. A bird, its wings outstretched and raised upwards, reaching up to touch one of the moons.

I gazed at the symbol, and something strange happened within me that I do not think I can truly describe. It was as if… as if everything suddenly made sense. As if even though I had never seen that strange insignia before, I knew it. A kind of certainty like nothing I had ever encountered before rose up within me, along with a sudden urge to discover the truth, at any cost. I cannot explain to you that feeling, since even I do not truly know what it was. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be a feeling of destiny.

And suddenly I knew, knew deep down in my soul, that I had to keep going. That I could not turn back. That I had to go over to that door and turn the handle and push it open.

It was simply the way that things were meant to be.

I did not realise that I had done it until I felt cold metal beneath my fingers, and glanced down to find my hand already resting on the door handle. For a moment, I wondered if the door would not open, if all this had been for nothing. But the latch clicked, the wood creaked, and the door swung open.

I gathered up every scrap of courage I possessed, and stepped inside.

Pulling the door shut after me, I slowly moved off into the passageway that lay ahead of me. It was more of a tunnel than a passage, in truth, stretching into the darkness ahead of me, vanishing into shadow. I felt my grip on my dagger tighten subconsciously, and wished that I'd had the foresight to bring a torch. Pebbles and loose stones crunched under my feet, and I instinctively dropped into a crouch, using every sneaking skill I knew to move forwards silently. And that was when I noticed something.

Silencing my own footsteps made me suddenly aware of the other sounds around me. And though I had never before heard such sounds, I knew with a deep-seated instinct what they were.

There was a faint _twang _sound, followed by an almost inaudible hiss. Far louder was a metallic, clanging noise that seemed familiar. It was like the sound of a blacksmith working at an anvil, only a thousand times fiercer. And rising above those sounds came the shouts. Ringing through the musty air, echoing off the passage walls.

'You won't leave here alive!'

'I'm gonna use that tail as a belt!'

'Ha! I think you're bleeding!'

'You should have stayed in your precious forests, Elf!'

'That's it? That's all you've got?'

These were from voices I did not recognise. But more ferocious and more furious still came the battle cries of three voices that I did know.

'Yield, and I may still show mercy!'

'I bring death from the shadows!'

'I claim your soul for Nocturnal!'

Blade. Sereniel. Dralsi.

And suddenly the sounds made sense. Those hisses were arrows being fired from bows, and that clash of metal against metal was the noise of swords meeting. No matter why they had come here, my Guild sisters and brother had found themselves in the midst of a pitched battle. If the sounds were anything to go on, they were outnumbered. And even if I did not understand what was happening, I was sworn to the defence of my Guild siblings.

I broke into a run. My feet pounded on the stone floor as I sprinted along the passageway, sweat making my grip on my dagger shaky. I felt as if the world had fused out around me, and all that existed was the tunnel I was running down, the knife in my hand, and the calls and roars of the combatants up ahead of me-

I turned a corner, and I saw.

I saw the hallway, a massive cavern, split in two by a quietly trickling stream. Torn pennants fluttered listlessly on the walls, and bookshelves crumbled where they lay in corners. Shadows danced around the walls. The scene was one of the most breath-taking and awe inspiring that I had ever seen in my entire life, and yet it drew my eyes for only a moment. Because no matter where I looked, battle raged.

Blade stood on the wooden bridge that spanned the creek, his teeth bared, and his elegant, deadly weapon catching the light as he swung it forwards through the air. Two Nord men were advancing on him, one from each end of the bridge, their leather armour streaked with blood and their faces split into snarls. The taller of the two lunged in, his warhammer punching through the air, towards the Guild's second. Blade let out an enraged hiss and ducked under the blow, lashing out with his sword in a swift, fluid movement. Blood sprayed over the Argonian's scales as his blade sliced cleanly through the thin leather and bit deeply into the man's chest. He let out a choking cry, and something strange happened. One moment, he was a mortal like any other, and the next, he was nothing but a shell. Some invisible force had left him, and his body was collapsing to the ground, wiped of all life, the fury and pain abruptly gone from the glazed-over eyes.

I stared, frozen with horror.

That was the first time I saw a mortal die.

Blade pulled his sword from the body and spun around, slicing open the throat of the man who had been coming at him from behind. The man cried out and fell, his limp form thumping on the wooden slats of the bridge. Blood flowed between the planks, seeping through them, falling into the water, turning it scarlet.

It had taken less than five seconds. In almost the same time as it might have taken me to pull on a jacket, two mortals had gone from life to death. And Blade, who always seemed so calm, so caring, so compassionate, had killed them as quickly and as mercilessly as he impaled the dummies back in the Cistern.

There was another twang, and I saw a red-feathered arrow slice through the air. A third bandit fell, the shaft taking him through the throat. I followed its flight path and saw Sereniel standing on the far side of the hall, her leaf-green eyes narrowed in determination and rage. As I watched, she threw her bow aside and pulled a dagger from her belt. With a wordless, warlike cry, she hurled herself from the balcony where she stood, landing square on top of a Redguard bandit who had been racing towards the bridge. The force of her leap knocked him to the ground, and before he could even scream, her dagger was embedded in his heart.

My entire body seemed to have turned to ice. I knew what death was. I had seen my mother's body. I had touched her skin, felt the coldness of it. I had looked into her eyes and seen the emptiness there. I had known even then, four years old and so innocent, so young, that she was gone forever, that she would never be returning to me. I had understood that even though her body was there, lying right in front of me, her life force, her spirit, everything that had made her Perdita Desidenius, was gone for good.

But I had not seen her die. I had not seen the blade punch through her skin and flesh and into her heart. I had not heard her cry out, I had not watched her life end. I had not been there as her spirit slipped from her body, flew far away from Nirn, and passed into Aetherius. I had not witnessed the moment that she turned from a living, breathing mortal to a cold, empty shell.

And now I had seen it.

I had seen the raw power that mortals possessed over one another.

Not a single one of us could give life to the dead.

But each and every man, elf and beast that walked the surface of Nirn could bring death to the living.

All of us. Even Marcella or Henja could have killed if they had chosen to, and they were the most wonderful people I had ever known. Gods above. I looked at the dagger in my hand, and knew that my knuckles must be turning white beneath my gloves. Even I could kill. I had the weapon. I had the knowledge. I had the power to do it.

Another twang, another hiss, another scream. A Breton fell this time, one of Dralsi's black-fletched arrows deep in his gut. He writhed on the ground for a moment, his fingers scraping at the ground, making trails of blood-stained mud. Then a second arrow healed his pain forever.

I looked from Dralsi, to Blade, to Sereniel. And I noticed something strange.

They were not wearing their Guild armour. They were wearing a different kind of armour- armour I had never seen before. Armour made from a metal that at first sight appeared to be ebony, yet was different. A strange mix of silver, grey and black. As if darkness had been forged into shape, or shadows had been woven together into metal.

And at the neck was the same symbol. A bird reaching for the moon.

Dralsi cried out- a sharp, half terrified, half furious sound, cutting through the air like a knife. There was a thud, and a clash of metal on stone, and I saw her fall to the ground, a Bosmer bandit pinning her down, his scarred face coated with triumph, a sword shining in his hand.

Blade turned. Sereniel turned. They reached for their weapons. They started to run forwards.

But I got there first.

I did not move from where I stood. I did not need to move. I did not even think about what I was doing. Ever afterwards, it always seemed to me that one moment, I was peering out from behind the corner, hunched against the wall, watching with wide eyes filled with shock. The next, I has straightened up, standing in full view of them all, my arm outstretched from the force of my throw. And my dagger, the dagger that my Khajiit friends had given to me so that I might be safe, sailed through the air, over the water, over the stone, and buried itself in the Bosmer's chest.

Time itself seemed to slow down around me, as if the Divines were watching, and wanted to be certain that I understood everything about what I had just done.

The Wood Elf reeled backwards sharply, as if someone had punched him in the face. A strange sound escaped his mouth- something between a cough, a choke and a gasp. His eyes were wider than my own as he looked down, and saw the jet-black dagger handle protruding from between his ribs. Blood trickled from where it had pierced his armour, running down his breastplate. The Elf reached for the dagger, but as his hand was halfway there, he shuddered and froze. His lips moved, but no words came from him. And then I saw his eyes lose focus and glaze over, and he crumpled without warning, almost like a tower that had just had its foundations torn out from under it. His limp form fell over that of the woman he had been seconds away from killing, and he did not move again.

I lowered my arm, breathing hard, a roaring sound in my ears.

No. This was not possible. This man could not be dead. I could not have killed him. Surely I was too young to have snatched away someone's life-

Dralsi snapped into action, thrusting the dead body away from her and leaping to her feet. Her bowstring sang its deadly song, and the final bandit bellowed with pain and rage before crashing into the water, never to move again.

For a moment, all four of us stood motionless, the sound of our heavy, frantic breathing mingling with the calm, almost merry tinkling of the stream.

Blade was the first to recover, replacing his sword in its sheath and staring at me with his bronze-coloured eyes blazing. 'Gallus? What in the name of the Hist are you doing here?'

I swallowed, searching for the right words. I did not find them.

Sereniel looked as if she could have exploded with fury. 'Did you follow us here?' she hissed, in a voice that made me take a half-step backwards.

'Rie,' Dralsi said quietly.

'_Don't call me Rie!' _Sereniel's grip on her bow was so tight I was surprised it didn't shatter. 'Well, boy? Though it would be fun, did you, to spy on the adults and see what they were getting up to?'

'Sereniel.' Dralsi took a step towards her Guildmaster, a warning tone to her voice. 'Lay off him.'

'Lay off him?' Sereniel whirled around, disbelief painted clearly on her face. 'Dralsi, are you insane? The boy has stumbled upon secrets that no one is supposed to know! No one but the Trinity may enter here!'

Blade looked at me closely, then turned to Sereniel. 'Rie, I do not think that she would have allowed him to come if it were not what _she_ intended.'

'My thoughts exactly.' Dralsi folded her arms.

'I…' Unable to explain myself, I decided, not for the first time in my life, that attacking was the best way to defend. 'What is going on? What are you doing here?'

'What are _we_ doing here?' Sereniel let out a bark of scornful laughter. 'I don't think that's the question.'

'He may well have just saved my life, Sereniel.' Dralsi reached down and pulled my dagger from the corpse of the Bosmer. 'If I was not certain before, I am now.'

Blade dipped his head and ran a hand through his tawny feathers. 'This must be a sign from our Lady. This was meant to be.'

'Meant to be?' I could see Sereniel's fury fading, but her jaw was clenched. 'You two are forever talking about destiny and fate and prophecy. The boy's here because he followed us and spied on us.'

'No, Sereniel. Don't pretend you can't see it in him. She's chosen him, the way she's chosen no one for years. We suspected it, and now we know for certain. His destiny is clear. This is the proof.' Dralsi faced the Wood Elf, calm certainty on her face.

'I am still here, you know,' I said quietly. 'There's no need to talk about me like I'm not listening.'

To my surprise, Dralsi turned to me with a smile. 'Forgive us, Gallus.'

'Who chose me?' My voice sounded small and frightened. Perhaps because I had never felt so small and frightened in my life. 'What do you mean, my destiny's clear?'

Blade looked at Dralsi. Dralsi looked at Sereniel. Sereniel looked at me. I looked at all three of them.

'We should start at the beginning,' Dralsi began finally. 'You know much of the world, Gallus. You've almost certainly heard of the Daedric Prince Nocturnal.'

I nodded. I had always been fascinated by the Daedra- their ways, their secrets, their mysteries. 'I know of her. The mistress of fortune and the night.'

'What else can you tell us?' My mentor leaned on her bow, raising her eyebrows.

I frowned, trying to remember what I had read when I was younger. 'She is one of the most secretive of the Daedric Princes, and impossible to understand. She's usually depicted as a human woman with a bird on each arm. She's usually associated with thieves, because she controls luck, and because her darkness is an ordered darkness, rather than a vengeful or chaotic one. That's why thieves usually pray to Nocturnal, whereas assassins choose a Prince like Mephala or Boethiah. Or even an entity like Sithis.'

'Very good. Continue.' I couldn't work out whether Sereniel was being scornful or approving, so I simply nodded and carried on.

'Um, Nocturnal's a Prince who's not considered evil, like Mehrunes Dagon or Molag Bal. She's not good, either, though. She's unpredictable, and though she can choose to help mortals, she can hinder them too. Her realm is Evergloam, and it's rumoured that she has three mortal servants on Nirn known as-'

I broke off, staring at them.

'Known as?' Dralsi promted.

'The Nightingales,' I whispered in awe, and everything slipped into place.

One of the many books I had temporarily borrowed from my father's study had been a small, nondescript tome with a purple cover, that had enthralled me from the moment I had first lifted its cover. _Nightingales: Fact or Fiction? _had been the title, and it was a question I had pondered often after reading it.

The Nightingales, according to the book, were supposedly a secret sect of thieves, members of the Guild that had somehow gained extra power. Apparently, they served Nocturnal, performing her bidding without question or hesitation, bound to her in both life and in death. Their symbol had appeared time and time again throughout history- carved onto a standing stone, (almost certainly the one I had seen outside the Hall) emblazoned onto a suit of armour that resembled forged twilight, drawn on the walls of a prison cell- yet its meaning had never been deciphered. Many had dismissed the tales, unable to believe that religion and thievery could be bound together, that a holy sect could arise from the rabble that was the Thieves Guild.

But now, as I looked from Blade to Sereniel to Dralsi, I knew that those people had been wrong.

The proof was right in front of me.

They were the Nightingales.

Blade smiled a little as he saw my expression. 'Someone seems a little surprised.'

That was the understatement of the Era. My shock at having seen so much death, at having killed another mortal, all vanished in the face of this.

'Put two and two together, have you?' Sereniel asked dryly. 'Worked out why we're standing in a run-down underground hall killing bandits in the middle of the night?'

'You're them,' I said quietly. 'They're real. And they're you.'

Dralsi nodded. 'We have taken an Oath to Nocturnal,' she explained. 'She has given us great power, but in return, we must serve her with every last drop of our blood. When she summons us to defend her temple, we must go.'

'And this is her temple?' It seemed a little too old and crumbling to be a proper shrine to a Daedric Prince.

'No. This is Nightingale Hall, once the headquarters of our order,' Blade told me. 'But in it lies a portal to the Twilight Sepulchre, and that is Nocturnal's temple. It is where these invaders were trying to get to.'

'And Nocturnal called us here to stop them.' Sereniel shrugged. 'And Dralsi seems to think she called you as well.'

My mentor shook her head. 'I don't think she called him. She guided him.'

'We should tell him.' Blade looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. 'He needs to know. It is his right.'

Dralsi nodded slowly, her scarlet eyes burning into mine. 'Of course. Gallus, what we're about to tell you is going to change your life forever, but we're going to have to ask you to trust us.'

I dipped my head wordlessly.

'Every so often, sometimes only once in a thousand years, a Nightingale will arise who is… different.' Dralsi chewed her lip thoughtfully, as if trying to find the right words to explain. 'Most of us are chosen by the previous Trinity, upon the death of one of them. We have to choose someone who is a strong fighter and a master thief, as well as someone with an open mind and a willing soul.'

'But it's not like that for everyone.' Blade pressed his hands together uneasily. 'Very occasionally, Nocturnal herself will choose a mortal. She will determine their destiny before their birth. And that destiny is the unavoidable destiny that they must become a Nightingale. No matter what choices they make, they shall eventually end up as a member of the Trinity.'

Sereniel nodded. 'It's not always easy to tell. But they're usually uncannily lucky, and far more gifted than they should be.' She looked me straight in the eyes. 'Sound familiar?'

I felt the world fall to pieces around me, leaving me to fall into empty space. 'No,' I choked, my voice catching in my throat. 'You… you don't mean…'

Dralsi smiled that sad, kind smile. 'I suspected from the moment I saw you. Your intelligence and skill is far beyond your years and training. You stole like a master, even though you were only a child. And how many seven-year-olds do you think there are who already have such a deep understanding of the world, who have survived the things you've been through? You're a born Nightingale, Gallus. You were chosen long ago.'

If you have never experienced such a thing yourself, you cannot understand how I felt in that moment. Within an instant, my entire life was revealed as a lie. The premature wisdom that everyone had praised me for, the maturity that my Guild brothers and sister marvelled at, the skill in thieving I had taken such pride in- was all of that nothing to do with me? Had it all been the whim of some invisible entity, that had watched me from the moment of my birth, and had spied on me for my entire life?

'I know it's hard to understand.' Dralsi walked over to me and laid a hand on my shoulder.

'I can understand it easily enough,' I replied, and I was surprised at how bitter my voice sounded. 'I want to be a good thief for myself. Not because someone else made me one.'

Dralsi's eyes shone with compassion. 'Of course. And you are your own person, Gallus. The skills you have belonged to you already. All Nocturnal did was to bring them out early.'

'But my fate's my own!' My voice rang through the hall, rebounding off the walls. 'I want to choose where my own life goes.'

'And you can. And you will. But Nocturnal has chosen you for this. What you do with the gifts she will give you is entirely your own choice. But there is some duty that only you can do. She chose you alone out of all the mortals on Nirn to do it. Take pride in that.'

'How can I take pride in the fact that none of my skill is my own?'

'No, Gallus.' Blade shook his head, sending a few drops of blood flying from his feathers. 'Your skill is entirely your own. Merely enhanced.'

I glared at him. 'And what if I don't want it to be enhanced?'

'Then you'd have been dead long ago,' Sereniel told me bluntly.

'So I'm not my own person. I've never been my own person.' I felt rage beginning to bubble up inside me. 'And I was meant to come here. My mother was meant to be murdered. My father was meant to hate me. My friend was meant to be sent away. That was all meant to happen. Because I was meant to become a slave to some Daedric Prince.'

Dralsi let out a long, slow sigh, and closed her eyes.

'You have every right to be angry,' she told me softly. 'I know that I would be angry too. If you were not angry, I would be worried.' She opened her eyes again, and they met mine. 'But no matter what skills Nocturnal may have heightened, you are still you. Your thoughts and your feelings are yours and yours alone. The way you see the world, and who you are- that's not changed because you have been set apart from other mortals. No matter where your destiny lies, you are still Gallus Desidenius. And nothing anyone ever says or does can ever change that.'

I looked into her eyes, and saw the certainty there. And I knew that she was right.

I bowed my head. 'What do I have to do?'

'Nothing. Not yet.' Blade's voice was gentle. 'When one of us dies, it is most likely that you will be called upon to complete the Trinity. When that happens, we will explain everything to you. There are many things about our duties that we cannot tell you yet, for we have been sworn to secrecy. But when you join us, you shall know all that you need to know.'

'And once you understand your duties, you'll be inducted into the Nightingales.' Sereneil strode over to me, gazing unblinkingly into my face. I swallowed and forced myself to meet her fiery green gaze. 'Listen, Gallus. If you were fated-' She spoke the word a little scornfully, but I could tell that in her heart, she agreed with what Dralsi and Blade had said- 'to come here tonight, then I'll forgive you that. And I'll thank you for saving Dralsi. But you're not to breathe a word of this to anyone. The Nightingale Oath binds us to say nothing of who we are to anyone, and we've already told you too much. You give us one reason not to trust you with this, and…' She trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging warningly in the air, purposefully unfinished.

'Ignore her. Her bark's worse than her bite, you know. We're not going to do anything to you.' Dralsi gave Sereniel a playful shove, and the atmosphere lightened somewhat. 'I know that we can trust you with this, Gallus. One day, I promise that everything will be explained to you. But for now, I'd ask you to trust us so that we can trust you in return.'

I nodded. 'I won't tell anyone. I promise.'

'Good.' Sereniel rubbed her hands together brusquely. 'All right. Blade, you stay here with me. We'll clear up the mess. Dralsi, take Gallus home.'

My mentor nodded, pressed my dagger back into my hand, and placed an arm around my shoulder. 'Come on, little brother. You should be asleep.'

Her use of the Guild's pet name for me showed me that I was out of whatever danger I had been in, that they were no longer angry with me. I allowed her to lead me away from the Hall, my gaze fixed on the stone floor.

'I'm sorry,' I mumbled, as soon as we were out of earshot of the others.

She blinked, looking perplexed. 'What in the name of the Divines do you have to be sorry for?'

'For coming. Getting mixed up in all this.'

'Like we said, Gallus. This was meant to be.' She squeezed my shoulder affectionately. 'You've got a great future ahead of you.'

'Dralsi.' I glanced up at her uneasily. 'I killed that Wood Elf.'

I didn't need to say anything more. I knew that she understood. 'Yes, you killed him. But that doesn't change you, you know. It doesn't make you a bad person.'

'But I killed him. He was alive, and now he's dead, because of me.'

She inclined her head slowly. 'Yes, that's true. But it's also true that if you hadn't, I might well have been killed. In taking a life, you saved one. Think of that.'

I thought about it. It was painful knowledge, that I had sent a soul away from Nirn for good. But if I had to choose between the bandit being alive and Dralsi being alive, I'd have picked Dralsi any day.

'This doesn't change things, Gallus.' Dralsi pushed open the door, and a gust of cold night wind struck me full in the face. 'You being a born Nightingale doesn't have to mean you have to feel like a different person. You're still a Guild member, a thief, and a friend to all of us. What's happened tonight will only change you if you want it to.'

I frowned, considering what she had just said.

'I can't not change,' I told her quietly. 'Everything's just too different now. Before, I didn't know where my life was going, and now I do.'

'You don't. The fact that one day you will become a Nightingale doesn't stop you from choosing your own fate.' She smiled that wide, heart-warming smile. 'Our fates, Gallus Desidenius, are different to our destinies. They are what we make them. Never forget that.'

The night was dark as we began the journey back to Riften. The shadows clustered around us, and I looked at them with new eyes now. They had always been my friends, my shelter, my refuge. But now, they were far more than that.

They were my future.

They were my destiny.

* * *

**Here it is at last! I'm sorry that updates are coming more slowly now, but I'll do them as quickly as I can, I promise.**

**The idea of 'born Nightingales' is completely my own idea. I felt it would make sense. **

**Thank you to everyone who's voted in my 'favourite characters' poll! Right now, Henja is in first place, and J'shana and Dar'zha are drawing for second. If you've not voted yet, please do! **

**As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading!**


	13. Rage

**Hello there, readers! Welcome to Chapter Twelve, which took me a lot longer than it should have done. Tell me, do you have any problems with the lengths of the recent chapters? I've not been planning to make them so long, but they just turn out that way.**

**Thanks to everyone who've been voting! J'shana is currently in the lead as a favourite character, with Henja and Dar'zha in second and third.**

**Ok, enough of me. Back to the story.**

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE

Knowing your destiny is not an easy thing.

Until that night, I did not know where my life was going. My road was open- it could lead anywhere I wanted it to. My life was one huge world of opportunity and questions. Whenever I looked into my future, I always saw myself with the Guild. But I knew that the myriad chances and events that life would inevitably throw in my way might well set my feet on a very different path. Nothing was certain. Nothing was confirmed. Only the Divines themselves knew what would one day become of me, and I remained in blissful ignorance.

And then I suddenly learned that my future had never been in my own hands. It had always rested in the hands of another. In the hands of some strange, omniscient and omnipotent entity from the dark corners of Oblivion. My destiny had been decided already, decided by a Daedric lord with an unpredictable whim and a merciless, incomprehensible heart.

From being carefree and untroubled, I had suddenly gone to feeling as if I was bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders. The knowledge of the duty I must one day do, the path I must one day take, the person that I must one day become, was constantly lurking at the back of my mind. Some nights I lay awake in the darkness, thinking about it. Trying to imagine what it might mean. Trying to work out why I of all people had been chosen for this.

Why? Why me? Surely there were a thousand other mortals who were more suited to the role. I was nothing special, surely? Why not choose someone who had been a thief their whole life? Why not choose someone who had been properly trained? Even my race made me seem like a strange choice. If I had been a Khajiit or an Argonian or a Bosmer, it would have made sense, but an Imperial? Imperials were more widely regarded as soldiers and businessmen than thieves. Dralsi, Blade and Sereniel seemed to fit the position perfectly. But they had been chosen by the former Nightingales, not by Nocturnal herself, and I had been born destined to take on the position where they had not.

It wasn't that I was reluctant to take on the role itself. No, not at all. Though the three senior Guild members refused to explain the details of their duties, I could tell that they were glad that they were Nightingales. There was always a flicker of pride on their faces whenever the subject was mentioned. And I could tell that an alliance with a Daedric prince would have its advantages. If they merely obeyed Nocturnal without receiving any reward in return, they would describe themselves as her slaves, not her servants. And in truth, I was proud, honoured, even flattered. Nocturnal, one of the all-powerful Daedra, had chosen me, had singled me out and marked me as special from the moment that I was born. I, an unimportant and insignificant Imperial child, bullied by his own father and forsaken by hope for so long, had been selected over all other mortals on Nirn. It staggered belief. And I could not help but be proud. No, I was no bitter because I did not want to become a Nightingale. It was the fact that I had no choice but to become a Nightingale that troubled me.

It was the loss of free will, the sudden theft of my freedom. I knew that there was nothing I could do about it, that there was no point in allowing myself to become angry or depressed, but I could not help my own feelings. It was only natural, I suppose, that I should feel cheated, suddenly unsafe. A thief's second nature is to leave themselves an escape route, a chance to make a getaway whenever they need to. I would never actually want to, but until that night, there had at least been a hypothetical chance that I could leave the Guild and find myself another life, had I chosen it. I doubted that I would ever want to, but I did at least have that option. And now I knew that I would have to enter into a binding contract with a being it was impossible to understand. That I would be forced to make a contract that would bind me in both life and death.

And the other problem I had was with the fact that I was not who I had thought I was. I'd always thought that I was Gallus Desidenius, nothing more, nothing left. Perhaps I was the worst Desidenius to ever exist in the history of my family, but it was still who I was. And now I had to come to terms with the fact that it was all a lie. I had always been so proud of myself, of how quickly I learned, of how much older than my age I seemed. I felt pride burn within me whenever one of my Guild brothers or sisters praised me, and delight shine inside my soul when one of them asked my advice. And now I wondered if I would ever be able to feel that way again. How could I take any pride in my achievements, when I knew that I was only able to accomplish them because a Daedric prince had given me the power to?

Perhaps it seems foolish to you, that I was so afraid and angry. But remember that I was only a child. Even if I had been granted wisdom beyond my years by the Lady of Shadows, I was still a child. And to a child, the future seems like a distant ship on the horizon that they will one day reach them, and that they will be able to steer away to new lands- a wonderful, amazing thing that it is hardly possible to believe will come, yet will come eventually, bringing joy in its wake. Now I felt that someone had smashed a hole in the side of that ship, and I had watched it be sucked down into a hungry ocean. Either that, or someone had removed the wheel and the rudder, and I no longer had any control over where I sailed.

But it is possible to heal almost any wound with time, as long as you use the right way of tending to it. And that includes wounds made on the soul. Time passed, and I gradually became used to the knowledge that my destiny was to become a Nightingale. It had shaken me, but I slowly became used to it. I could still decide what I did with my life. This sudden new twist would only pain me if I let it. And I would not let it. I should be proud.

Dralsi, too, was a comfort to me. 'You mustn't be afraid of your future, Gallus,' she told me. 'What will come will come, what will happen will happen, and how we deal with what we must face is the making of us all.'

I remember looking up at those warm crimson eyes and voicing my deepest fear. 'Dralsi, I don't know who I am anymore.'

She had chuckled and placed her arm around my shoulder. 'Oh, Gallus, you don't need to know who you are. Why even waste your time and strength trying to look? The person you want to be, the person you dream of becoming- that's who's important. That's who you need to search for.'

Those are words that I have never forgotten, that I have carried with me in my heart for all of my life. And for all of my death.

But just as it seemed that I was moving past the wounds, that the scars had faded, that I could finally be myself again, something happened that tore the rudder of my ship to pieces. Something that ripped up its sails and snapped its oars and left it to flounder helplessly in a freezing sea.

Something that would change my life forever.

Something that would forever determine who I would become.

* * *

Maybe three months after the unexpected discovery of my own destiny, it was not yet dawn when I was suddenly and rudely awoken by a noise that had become all too familiar to me over the recent months. I let out a low groan and pulled my blanket over my head as my ears registered the sounds- a furious, enraged hissing, a volley of loud, insistent and incensed barks, and the usual accompanying barrage of exchanged threats of death, destruction and disembowelment. I heard the rustlings of my fellow Guild members stirring in their sleep, quickly followed by their own yells as they, too, were woken.

'Will you two shut those Gods-damned animals up?!'

'Keep those mangy pets of yours under control!'

'Please. I'm trying to sleep…'

'Silent, will you put that mutt of yours on a lead?'

'Put that overgrown floor duster outside at night, Fjella!'

'How come you can remember what you had for breakfast eight months ago and you can't remember to turn that stupid cat out until morning?'

'You might not like speaking, but you can still listen, can't you? Get that insane dog out of here!'

I opened my eyes, blinked a few times, and tried to close them again. No use. Whisper's barking was getting steadily louder, and falling asleep now was going to be as possible as sticking my hand in a fire without getting burned. _Perfect, _I thought grouchily. I am a great lover of sleep, and being woken up before a time of my own choosing is very nearly alongside traitors in the list of things I cannot abide.

'Those two at it again?' I mumbled, lifting my head and rubbing my eyes.

Gurak let out a grunt from the bed to my left. 'Sounds like it. Don't they realise that Orcs need their sleep? We get tetchy if we don't.'

I laughed. 'What do you mean, you _get_ tetchy?'

The Orc grinned at me. 'Ah, shut up.'

'Don't tell that to me,' I replied, looking out into the Cistern, where Fjella was holding the struggling, spitting Manji in her arms, trying to stop him from launching himself at Whisper, who was straining against Silent's grip while barking loud enough to make the entire chamber echo with the sound. The Breton and the Nord were staring daggers at each other, Fjella yelling furiously, Silent glaring wordlessly, his eyes burning with anger.

'I'm not putting up with this! One day that dog of yours is going to kill Manji.'

'Your concern.' When Silent strung more than a single word together, it was always clear that he was expressing deep emotions- and in this case, it was clearly fury.

'_My _concern? Sweet Talos, Silent. Whisper nearly bit him in half.'

Silent faced her, hazel eyes burning. 'Liar,' he said simply.

Fjella stared at him in apoplectic astonishment. 'How dare you call me a liar, you half-witted fool?'

The Breton's jaw tightened, and I saw hurt spark in his eyes. 'No danger,' he growled.

'No danger? She had him by the neck!'

Silent said nothing, merely glaring at the Nord woman as he stroked his husky's glossy pelt.

'All right, you two. That's enough. More than enough.' Sereniel strode over to the pair of them, her leaf-coloured eyes flashing. The watching Guild members shrank back slightly as she marched through the crowd towards the combatants. I could tell that she, too, had been woken up before she would have chosen- her red hair was falling over her back instead of being braided into her usual plait, and several of the buckles on her armour were undone- but she was still emanating her usual air of brisk confidence and self-assuredness, and she was every inch the Guildmaster. Fjella swallowed hard, hugging Manji to her, and Silent's anger turned to sudden uncertainty. Manji's struggles ceased, and Whisper stopped barking.

Sereniel stared at the two of them for a moment, then placed her hands on her hips and rapped out her commands. 'Fjella, give Manji to Sranys. Sranys, put Manji outside, please. Silent, kindly allow Farmund to take Whisper into the Flagon.'

The named Guild members scurried to obey. Sranys lifted the subdued Manji from Fjella's arms and raced towards the Cistern exit. Farmund muttered a quick 'sorry,' to Silent, took a firm hold around Whisper's neck, and dragged the now-quiet husky towards the door. The rest of us watched as Sereniel advanced on Silent and Fjella, a less-than-pleased expression on her face.

'Do you two know what the time is?' she asked, her voice sharp and commanding.

'No,' Fjella mumbled, her head hanging, and Silent shook his head wordlessly.

'Nor do I,' the Guildmaster growled, 'but I would guess that it is somewhere between three and four o'clock in the morning.'

She paused for a moment, allowing the information to sink in. 'This is a time of night when anybody sensible is asleep. If you take a quick look around, it will almost certainly not escape your notice that the entire Guild is very much not asleep. In fact, each and every one of them is wide awake.'

'Orthwin's not,' Sabinus pointed out.

Sereniel waved her hand airily at him. 'That's an entirely different matter. Orthwin never wakes up until seven o'clock anyway. It'll take more than a pair of insane animals to wake him up.' There were a few titters from the crowd, which were quickly drowned out as Sereniel ploughed on. 'Now, due to your complete and utter inability to keep your animals under control, we are now all awake. Excluding Orthwin, that's all of us, from me, who's seen the turning of an entire century, to Gallus, who's not seen the passing of a full eight years yet. Do you think that this is an appropriate way for us to begin our day?'

There was a lengthy silence. Fjella shuffled her feet. 'Whisper started it,' she muttered, and I couldn't help but give a sad smile, because that was exactly the sort of thing that Prosperus used to say when he argued with me. It startled me, to remember my brother. He would be almost eighteen now. A man, in the eyes of the world, if not in maturity.

'I don't give a flying skeever who started it. This is me, finishing it.' Sereniel folded her arms. 'Can someone apart from Fjella or Silent tell me what happened?'

Sranys, returning from the surface, wiped a few cat hairs from his tunic as he nodded. 'I didn't see everything. But I was woken up by Manji shrieking his head off. I saw Whisper chasing him around the Cistern, and eventually she managed to get hold of him-'

Silent's fists clenched. 'Didn't hurt,' he snapped.

'So it doesn't hurt when some great hairy mutt grabs you and wrenches you off the ground?' Fjella retorted hotly.

Sereniel held up a hand. 'Thank you, you two. Carry on, Sranys.'

The Dunmer shrugged. 'Well, from what I saw, Manji scratched her on the nose. Whisper dropped him, and they both turned tail and ran towards their respective owners.'

There was a moment's pause, then Sereniel nodded slowly. 'The way I see it is, Whisper hurt Manji, and Manji hurt Whisper. Each animal injured the other. Both of them are equally to blame, as are both of you.'

She looked between the Nord and the Breton, her eyes stern. 'I'm afraid I'm not going to allow a repeat of this. Fjella, from now on, Manji goes outside at night. No excuses.'

Fjella's eyes widened in horror. 'But, Sereniel-'

'No buts. That's an order. And Silent, Whisper is not allowed to be in the same room as Manji. Ever. If you see him come in, Whisper goes somewhere else. Understand?'

The Breton looked as if someone had slapped him in the face, yet he slowly dipped his head.

Sereniel glanced at Fjella. 'Understand?' she repeated.

'Yes,' the Nord mumbled.

'Thank you. And now I'd like you two to apologise to each other. And mean it, please.'

The two of them looked at each other sullenly.

'Sorry.' Silent practically barked the word, sounding very much like his dog.

'I'm sorry, Silent,' Fjella hissed, also resembling her pet.

'That'll do.' Sereniel clapped her hands in a business-like way. 'Now, if nobody minds, I'm going back to bed.'

She spun around and marched away without another word.

There was a moment of complete silence, as everyone looked at each other. Farmund was the first to break the awkward moment, by letting out a large yawn and returning to his bed. Sranys, Sabinus, Blade and Ahsla quickly followed, as, after a final poisonous look at Silent, did Fjella. Silent set his teeth and stormed off in the direction of the Flagon. Elandine, clearly deciding that as she was awake she might as well put herself to good use, made her way over to her enchanting table and began placing soul gems on it in confusing patterns. Gurak looked at me, grinning.

'That reminded me of what my mother was like when I argued with my sister,' he told me, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

I blinked in surprise. 'You have a sister?'

He shook his head. 'I had a sister. She was killed. Bandits.'

'Oh.' I thought of Marcella, of how much it would pain me if I were to find out that she were dead. 'I'm sorry.'

'No need for you to be sorry, young'un. It wasn't anything to do with you.'

He frowned, looking at me thoughtfully. 'You not trying to get back to sleep?'

I shook my head. 'No point.'

Gurak cracked his knuckles. 'Then what do you say to a trip to Solitude?'

'Solitude?' I echoed, staring at him. 'Why?'

He gave me a shamefaced grin. 'Because there's a job needs doing there, one that Sereniel asked me to do two weeks ago. Trouble is, it takes so damn long to get from here to Solitude that I could never be bothered to wake up early enough to get there in time.' He got to his feet, raising one eyebrow. 'What do you say? It's nothing special. Just a little bit of pickpocketing.'

I nodded eagerly. Solitude. I had never been there yet- so far, Morthal was the furthest I had been from Riften. I'd heard many a tale of Solitude's grandeur and beauty, and there was no way I was going to pass up a chance to witness it for myself. 'Have you asked Sereniel if I could come?'

The Orc winked at me. 'She was the one who told me I should take you.' He rubbed his hands together. 'She asked me to take Sabinus, too. He needs some practice on his pickpocketing technique. I'll see about getting us a carriage while you get him.'

I nodded, and my Guild brother started walking towards the Cistern exit while I made my way over to Sabinus's bed. If I was going to be completely honest with myself, Sabinus was not my first choice for a mission partner. He had a good heart, but he never really made for very interesting conversation. I would have been happy going with just Gurak. But the quiet Imperial was Gurak's apprentice, and it made sense that he was the one to accompany us.

I placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Sabinus.'

He shrugged me off, lifting his head from his pillow and blinked blearily at him. 'Gallus? What is it?'

'Gurak wants us. A mission.'

Sabinus groaned. 'Doesn't he realise what time it is?'

'We're going to Solitude. We need to leave early.'

My fellow Imperial nodded groggily and swung himself out of bed. 'I'm coming. Give me a minute to get ready.'

Ten minutes later, we were all seated in the back of the carriage, steadily jolting towards Solitude as Gurak filled us in on the details of the mission. 'Like I said, it ain't much. Nothing tricky at all,' he growled. 'There's some random noble in the city who's been funding the Jarl of Riften's efforts to get us wiped out. There's plenty of folk like that around, and we have to deal with them. You want to ensure your foes get beaten, you take down their allies. This time, we're just giving him a warning. If he carries on with this, we'll have to resort to something more drastic, but for now, we're only going to give him a message.'

'What kind of message?' Sabinus looked as if he was still half asleep, and I had to run his mumbled words twice through my head before I understood them.

'It's a joint fishing and shill job. See this?' Gurak held up a small, almost spherical black pebble, and extended his hand towards us so that we could see the Guild's symbol carved onto its sleek, smooth surface. 'This is one of our many calling cards. All you need to do is pop it in the fool's pocket, and if you can grab something valuable at the same time, then all the better. That way he should learn not to mess with us, 'cause we know who he is and where he lives. And we can't be stopped. And we can find him any time.'

'Hold on a moment.' Sabinus held up a hand. 'Did you say that all _I _need to do is put it in his pocket?'

Gurak nodded, smirking. 'This is a training mission as well, kid.'

Sabinus swallowed nervously, then cast a curious glance at me. 'Then what's he doing here?'

'Gallus is here to lend you a hand. Albeit a very small hand, but a hand nonetheless.' Gurak shot me a quick grin. 'I don't think you're quite confident enough yet to start delving through the contents of a guy's pocket without something to keep him distracted, am I right?'

'Right.' Sabinus nodded. 'So he's the distraction?'

'He's the distraction,'Gurak confirmed, leaning back against the wall of the cart. 'As Farmund keeps saying, nobody suspects a kid.'

Sabinus raised his eyebrows. 'Can you do that?'

'Easy.'

Sabinus dipped his head to me in gratitude, Gurak let out an appreciative nod, and the conversation closed.

It was a long journey to Solitude, the longest I had ever yet been on. On foot, it would have taken almost the entire day, and even by carriage it was a good ten and a half hours before we finally drew up outside. That was long enough for me to finally manage to slip back into sleep, and make up for my early rising. However, it only shortened the journey for me by a few hours, and after that, I had very little to do but stare at the landscape as it rolled by, and talk to my Guild brothers. I soon found myself wishing I had brought a book.

At long last, though, we arrived at the stables. Gurak slapped some coins into the coachman's palm and led us up to the gates, not slowing down for either of us as we hastily pulled on civilian clothing over our brown leathers.

'Solitude's a damn sight bigger and busier than your regular city,' he called back to us. 'Imagine Riften, but twice the size and with twice the number of people. Mind you, the town guard here is a mess. They wouldn't know what a thief was if one came right up to them and threw a sweetroll in their faces.'

I thought about how I had done exactly that to the guard back in Riften, and smiled to myself.

'Don't think they ain't law abiding. They're idiots, but they'll still sling you in jail if they see you breaking the law.' Gurak's tone became more serious. 'And here in Solitude, thieves aren't half as common as they are in the places you're used to. Back in Riften, a theft isn't worth a guard's time. Here, they'll take it much more seriously. Remember, the guy we're after is well-known and well-respected. Threatening him like this is not going to go down well. Not with him, not with the citizens, not with the guards. Not with anyone. And remember, this city is the seat of the High King.'

I saw Sabinus swallow nervously. 'Gurak… what happens if we do get caught?'

The Orc snorted. 'Then you run like Oblivion.'

'And what if we get arrested?' I couldn't stop a touch of nervousness seeping into my voice. 'I can't run as fast as you can. What if the guards actually get me?'

Gurak chuckled and patted me on the shoulder- at least, he tried to. What with his abnormal strength, it came out as a thump that nearly knocked me clean off my feet. 'Don't you worry about that, little brother. I won't let anything happen to you.'

Sabinus nodded. 'You'll get off easily if you're caught. You're just a child.'

I knew that he had meant the words as a statement of the facts, and not as a patronisation, but still, it stung. 'If I'm old enough to steal, I'm old enough to be arrested for stealing,' I snapped.'

'But what's the worst that's going to happen to you? The High King's not going to jail a kid. If me or Gurak gets caught, we're in prison, no questions asked!'

'Whoah, there!' Gurak stopped walking and held up his hands. 'Don't you two bite each other's heads off! No need to get hurt before we actually get started. We've had enough squabbling between Guild members already for one day.'

I scuffed the ground with my shoe. Sabinus feigned a sudden interest in the flight of a hawk high above us.

'Pull yourselves together, boys. We ain't getting caught. We're the best at what we do. Gallus, Sabinus is right. The guards will hesitate to do anything to someone as young as you. You need to use that to your advantage. Sabinus, you can move quicker than almost anyone else in the Guild. If it comes to it, you can make it out of the city before the guard's finished challenging you. If one of us does get caught, then I got plenty of money on me. The guards here may be harder on crime, but they get the same pay as guards anywhere else in Skyrim, and that pay is useless. Why do you think we're able to have the entire guard population of Riften answering to us? If a guard sees a chance to earn an extra few hundred Septim, they'll take it. And if that means accepting a bribe from a Guild member, then so be it.'

Sabinus looked more hopeful, but I was still uneasy. I'd never seen anyone get arrested on a mission before, but I knew that several people had, and many more had come close. Sranys had told me about a time when he, Farmund and Orthwin had been in Windhelm, and Orthwin had snapped a lockpick and alerted the guards with the sound. If Farmund hadn't intervened, his clever tongue and cunning words confusing and misleading the guards, all three of them would have found themselves in the dungeons of the Palace of the Kings. As it was, the guards had departed bewildered and baffled, wondering how on Nirn they had mistaken the sound of someone playing a lute with the sound of someone breaking a lockpick, with their pockets considerably lighter than before. At least, that was the story Farmund told, and with Farmund, it was hard to tell what was true and what was not.

'Look, I've seen many a Guild member get caught in their time.' Gurak looked between the two of us, his stone-coloured eyes warm. 'There's no need to worry about it. Not at all. If either of you gets thrown in jail, I'll get you out of there. If I get caught, and you don't feel confident bribing the guards yourselves, go back to Riften and get Sereniel or Blade or Dralsi to help out. There's no need to panic. None at all.'

He turned and marched up to the city gates. 'Now come on. We've got a job to get done.'

The nearest guard straightened his scarlet sash and blocked Gurak's way with his sword. 'Halt there, Orc. What's your business in Solitude?'

Gurak took a step towards the guard, locking eyes with him. 'My business in Solitude?' he growled, his hands clenching into fists. 'My business is nothing to do with you.'

For a moment, my heart was in my mouth. Surely speaking to a guard that disrespectfully was breaking the law? But it was soon clear that Gurak had been right about the guards in Haafingar being incompetent cowards. The man almost seemed to shrink a little under the Orc's burning gaze, and I saw him swallow.

'Forgive me. It's my duty to ask questions,' the guard stammered, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. 'Go ahead and enter the city.'

'My thanks.' Gurak nodded to Sabinus and me. 'Come on, you two. We've no time to stand around. Work to do.'

He pushed open the gates, and I took my first steps into Solitude.

I had seen many cities since I joined the Guild, and all had been different. Riften, teeming with life and sound and colour, Whiterun, so open and quiet, Windhelm, ancient as the hills and cold as the snow that coated its streets, Markarth, with its spires and breath-taking Dwarven architecture. Each could not be more unlike the others, and Solitude was different again.

The houses were tall. That was the first thing that I noticed, the first thing that took me by surprise. All were grand in design and sturdily built, reaching three or even four stories high. I couldn't imagine how rich you would have to be in order to purchase a house with so much space. The streets were wide, paved with stone, and packed with people, and their chatter and laughter filled the air. They seemed so much calmer and more relaxed than the folk of Riften, laid-back in a way that the citizens of my home city never were. The people of Riften were ever wary, but here in Solitude, there were no suspicious glances over shoulders or hands straying towards the hilts of blades. I could well believe that this place was unused to thieves.

I looked up, seeing the distant shape of the famous Solitude windmill, and the spires of the Blue Palace, built upon its bridge of stone. A hawk swept across the sky, its call ripping through the clouds. I shook my head in awe and wonder. When I was younger, I had never imagined that the world could hold such magnificence and splendour.

'Hey, kid. If you've finished gawping, we've got business to attend to.'

Gurak's voice snapped me back into reality, and I grinned apologetically. 'Sorry. Just admiring the view.'

The burly Orc chuckled. 'Hey, I've an idea. Before we go hunting down the target, why don't we have a look around the city? See the sights, pay a visit to an inn. We've been on the road for a long time, after all. I reckon we need a break.'

Sabinus nodded eagerly. 'Fine with me.'

I felt my grin growing wider. 'Sounds like a plan.'

We moved off into the bustling streets, thee Guild brothers, hawks wheeling in the blue skies far above our heads. Happy. Carefree. Unafraid. And utterly oblivious of what was yet to come.

* * *

'You know, Gallus, I never suspected that you could be such a good liar.'

I laughed, pride and delight glowing within me. 'It's not from experience. It's from living around Farmund.'

Gurak and Sabinus chuckled and nodded, their smiles too big for their faces. 'Even if I live for a thousand years, I'm never forgetting that,' the Orc grinned, his eyes shining with mirth. 'You had that guy completely taken in.' He imitated my deception of the fool that had been our target. 'Just one coin, sir, I'm so hungry! I ran away from home, and I've got nowhere to go-'

'To be fair, that wasn't lying.' The events of the day seemed to have brought out the best in Sabinus. I had never before seen the withdrawn Imperial so carefree and confident. 'He did run away from home, and he's always hungry.'

'I don't care whether he was lying or not, he had that thickbrained idiot well and truly duped.' Gurak ruffled my hair fondly. 'And you performed like a master, Sabinus.'

The Imperial practically glowed with pride. 'It was easier than I expected,' he admitted modestly, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks. 'Gallus had him distracted, and his pockets were pretty big.'

Gurak thumped his apprentice's shoulder. 'Maybe so, but you showed skill I never knew you had. We sent that man a message he won't soon forget, and you even managed to grab yourself a nice silver ring into the bargain. All in all, a good day's work.'

'I can't wait to tell the others about this.' Every step I took was more of a bounce in my excitement. The mission had been pulled off without a hitch, and the knowledge that I'd played an essential apart made me feel happier than I'd ever been.

Gurak shot me an amused glance. 'Do you ever stop smiling, kid?'

I blinked, baffled. 'What?'

Sabinus laughed. 'You don't even realise you're doing it, do you?'

'Nine times out of ten I've seen you, you've been grinning your head off.' I had never imagined that the fearsome face of an Orc could look so warm and affectionate. 'I've never known anyone love life so much.'

His words took me by surprise. It was true that I enjoyed every second of my existence, that I revelled in being alive. Having broken free of my family and found a home and friendship, it was impossible for me not to. Even the revelation of my destiny had not been able to crush that out of me, now that I'd had time to come to terms with it. Yes. It was good to be alive, to be safe, to have a family, to be free. I loved it. I hadn't noticed it showed so much.

_Happiness can become a habit, I suppose, _I told myself, and I knew that my eyes were shining. _And there are far worse habits to have._

Gurak suddenly drew to a halt, looking perplexed. 'Hold on. We've come too far.'

I looked at him, my brow knitting itself into a frown. 'How can we have come too far?'

He shook his head in bewilderment, looking around at the woodlands surrounding us. 'We've long gone past the turning to the stables. We must have walked past it without noticing.'

Sabinus groaned. 'Nice leadership skills, Gurak.'

His mentor nudged him. 'I don't want any cheek from you, kid. I get enough of that from Orthwin already.' He let out a resigned sigh. 'Sorry, brothers. Looks like we just got to turn around and retrace our steps.'

A small snort came from Sabinus's direction. 'And get lost again?'

'We're not lost. We're just not entirely sure exactly where we are. We follow the path back the way we came, and we'll be back in Solitude.' Gurak shrugged ruefully. 'That'll teach me to chat to you guys instead of watching where we're going.'

I felt my frown deepening. 'I don't understand how we can have missed the turning.'

Sabinus raised and lowered one shoulder. 'I guess we just weren't concentrating.'

Gurak dipped his head. 'Or maybe it just got covered up by plants or something.'

'Very astute.'

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the chirping of a bird somewhere in the emerald foliage above our heads.

'Did you say that, Sabinus?' I asked, turning to him.

He shook his head. 'I thought it was you.'

Gurak blinked. 'Don't look at me.'

'You see,' came the voice, loud and clear in the quiet of the woodlands, 'we're experts in setting traps.'

Sabinus gasped, grabbing his steel mace. Gurak let out a low, threatening growl. My hands were trembling as they lifted my dagger from its sheath.

They melted out of the trees around us, appearing without warning from nowhere like ghosts. They had already formed a circle around us, a circular wall of bristling weapons and shining blades. I swept my eyes over them, gripping my dagger as if it were a lifeline. There were ten of them at least, clad in fur, hide and iron armour, their weapons simple, but sharp and deadly. Several Nords, a Khajiit, a pair of Redguards, a Dunmer, a Bosmer, a Breton, and a figure whose face was invisible behind the winged steel helmet that hid all his features, with the exception of his glinting eyes, blocked our path, cruel smiles plastered on their faces.

The man in the steel armour tossed his vast warhammer from hand to hand as he prowled towards us. 'An Orc, and a pair of skinny Imperials,' he said disdainfully. 'And one of them far too small to be carrying anything good. What a waste of time and effort.'

'I'm warning you. Back off.' Gurak's gauntleted fists were tightly clenched, and his face was twisted into a snarl. I had never seen my usually even-tempered Guild brother look so fierce, and it was then I knew for certain that we were in danger.

The bandit leader laughed, his followers cackling and sniggering along with him. 'You're warning me? That's somewhat amusing.' I shrank back against Gurak as he began walking in a circle around us, his every move like that of a wolf closing in on its prey. 'I've lost count of the number of people we've snared by hiding the turning to Katla's farm. Some of them hand over what they have and run. Those are the smart ones. The fools try to fight. And the fools always die.'

'Well, good for you, 'cause you just found three people who've got no plans to die this day.' Gurak's tusks glinted in the golden light of the afternoon sun. 'You're getting nothing from us. Get out of our way, or we'll have to make you.'

'Come now, there's no need for anyone to get hurt.' The bandit chief stroked the handle of his warhammer. 'All you need to do is hand over what you have, and we can consider the matter settled.'

Sabinus's hand tightened around his mace. 'Not a chance,' he snapped, but I heard his voice shaking.

The bandit sighed. 'What a waste. You've got fine spirit, all of you. It would be a shame to have to kill you.' His gaze turned to me. 'I've got a new idea, Orc. You're obviously one of those annoyingly heroic 'I don't care if I die,' types. But I know your weak spot.' His hand lashed out towards me. 'Hand over your gold, or I'll kill the boy.'

Fire leaped up within me, burning through my blood. 'Try!' I roared, and swung my dagger.

The shimmering dark ebony met with the steel of the man's gauntlet. I did not know who had forged my blade, but whoever it was had been a master. It sliced through the bandit's metal glove as if it were slicing through paper, making him draw back with a furious hiss. He stared at me, and I saw a few drops of blood fall from his hand and onto the ground.

'Good one, little brother.' Gurak muttered.

The bandits let out a chorus of shouts and snarls, readying their weapons. Their leader flicked blood from his gauntlet and spat onto the ground. 'You've just signed your own death sentences.'

'You'll be making a mistake if you kill us,' Sabinus blurted out. 'Haven't you taken a look at the armour we're wearing?'

We had taken off our civilian clothes after leaving the city, knowing that it didn't matter if anyone saw us wearing our Guild leathers now that our crime had been accomplished. The bandits' eyes swept over us, and I saw a few pairs of eyes narrow.

'Thieves Guild?' It was the Breton that spoke, twirling his iron sword around in his hand. 'You're not telling me that they're so desperate for members that they're recruiting Orcs, kids, and scrawny Imperial numbskulls?'

The bandits laughed nastily, several of them stepping towards us.

'One more step, and I'll snap your necks,' Gurak snarled. 'And even if we die, you'll follow us soon enough. The Guild avenges its dead.'

'They can't. And they won't. Not if they don't know who killed you.' The bandit leader raised his weapon. 'And I don't intend to let any of you survive to tell them.'

He let out a bloodcurdling roar. 'Attack!'

The line of ragtag warriors surged forwards.

'Stand by me, brothers!' Gurak bellowed, and lunged towards them.

And then everything was a raging confusion of blades, shouts and screams. I saw one of the Redguards bringing his sword down through the air towards me, his face twisted into a leer of derision. I did not even think about what I was doing before I leaped to the side, lashing out with my blade as I did so. I felt it connect with the man's armour, tearing through the thin fur and sending up a spray of blood. He whirled around, his blades slicing towards me a second time, and I allowed my instincts to take over me. Dropping to the ground, I rolled away from his blow and slashed the tip of my knife across his lower leg. He let out a howl, the sudden, searing pain disorientating him. The momentum of his blow, combined with the sudden agony, sent him crashing to the ground, his swords clattering onto the stones of the road. I moved without hesitation, kicking his weapons out of his reach, jumping to my feet, and punching my dagger down into his chest.

It did not feel how I would have expected it to feel. It wasn't smooth and easy, like cutting butter. No. I could feel the blade tearing through skin and flesh, and then driving deeper still and splintering bone. I gasped as blood exploded from the wound, as I felt the impact of my blow shooting through my arm. The Redguard stared at me in disbelief and shock for a few breathless moments. Then his eyes glazed over, and his head lolled limply to one side.

There was no time for horror, no time to reflect on the second mortal life that I had taken. I yanked my blade from his corpse and spun around, ready to face the next attacker. To my left, I saw Sabinus swinging his mace, sending it cannoning with a crunch into the Breton's side. I heard the sickening sound of the man's ribs smashing behind the force of the blow as he crumpled to the ground. Sabinus pulled his knife from his belt and I turned away, not wanting to see what I knew was going to happen next.

Nearby, Gurak was battling the bandit leader, his eyes burning with rage and loathing. The Orc ducked under the steel warhammer as it swung through the air towards him, and reached up with one hand. The warhammer slammed into Gurak's grip, my Guild brother's strength making it stop mid-swing as if it had hit a wall. Without a single stagger from the impact, or a flicker of hesitation, Gurak wrenched it from the bandit's grasp and grasped both ends of it. His face twisted with concentration as he bent the metal shaft into a curve the shape of a crescent moon, before flinging the useless weapon away. The bandit chief stared in astonishment for a moment, before whipping his sword from his belt and launching himself back into the battle.

I did not see what happened next, because one of the Nords was sprinting towards me, her greatsword raised high. Again, I struck low, opening up a narrow cut on her leg and making her stagger. Sending silent thanks to Blade and Dralsi, for their lessons in combat, and to the Khajiit caravan who had given me the blade, I managed to sidestep her attack and plunge my dagger into her side. She screeched with mingled pain and fury and struck out with her fists, catching me on the side of my head and knocking me to the ground. She wrenched my blade from the wound I had torn open in her side and advanced towards me. But even as I scrambled to my feet, ready to face her, a pair of metal-coated hands grasped her head and viciously twisted her head to the side. I heard her neck snap, and a moment later she was falling from Gurak's grasp and crashing to the ground, my knife slipping from her grip. I snatched it up and nodded at Gurak. 'Thanks.'

'Don't mention it,' he growled, and turned to face the Dark Elf, who was beginning to advance towards us, fire magic smouldering in his palms.

Gurak let out a wordless, guttural bellow that stopped him in his tracks. 'Don't try it!' he roared. 'Or you can go the same way as your leader!'

The Dunmer's blood-coloured eyes widened, and he span around. A gasp escaped him as he took in the sight that lay before him; the bandit chief lying dead, his sword lying snapped in two by his side, his armour streaked with blood, and his helmet dented and twisted. I shuddered as I thought of what the man must have experienced in the last moments of his life- Gurak's fists pounding into his head again and again, crushing the metal of his helmet into his face, smashing his skull as if it had been made of glass.

The Dark Elf hesitated for a moment, then Gurak raised his blood-coated fists. Without hesitation, the elf turned and fled, pushing his way through a patch of brambles in his eagerness to get away. The Khajiit took one look at the twisted body of his leader and followed suit, his eyes round with fear. The remainder of the gang- one of the Redguards, the Bosmer, and two Nords, dithered for a moment, looking uncertainly between us. Then the Wood Elf lifted his bow into the air and shouted at the top of his voice. 'You won't leave here alive, scum!'

'And neither will you,' Gurak hissed, his lip curling with scorn and hatred.

Sabinus stepped forwards, his mace catching the light as he brought it crashing down onto the shoulder of one of the Nords. A scream split the air, and then the lull in the battle was over, and all was confusion once again. The second Nord swung a war axe towards me, and I leaped backwards, swinging out wildly in a clumsy yet reasonably effective strike that sliced across his left arm and made him drop his shield with a shout of pain. I caught sight of the Bosmer flying through the air and crashing into a tree, and the other Nord dropping to the ground a second later, a gaping hole in his throat. I gritted my teeth and dodged the bandit's second swing, before darting in and burying my blade in his heart. A choking cry was suddenly cut off as blood welled up from the wound, and he, too, was falling.

His body hit the ground, and there was silence.

Breathing hard, I turned and looked at my Guild brothers. Sabinus was standing with one hand resting on a tree, blood dripping from his mace, the other Nord lying still at his feet. A sword had pierced his shoulder, and there was a crimson stain on his armour, but otherwise he seemed unhurt. I realised suddenly that there was a shallow cut on my left arm. I didn't remember receiving it, but I guessed that it had been dealt by the Redguard, since I didn't remember any of the others getting close enough to hurt me. My head was still ringing from where the Nord woman had struck me, but I wasn't bleeding. There was an impressive cut sliced across Gurak's red warpaint, and he limped a little as he came towards me. But we were alive, and our attackers lay around us. Dead.

'You two all right?' The Orc looked between us, his fiery rage replaced by concern. I nodded, and Sabinus wearily dipped his head.

'Took a sword to the shoulder, but I don't think it's deep,' he said, his voice laden with exhaustion. 'I'll be okay.'

'I'm fine,' I said quickly, as Gurak turned to me. 'Nothing serious. You?'

'I've suffered worse during training.' My Guild brother chuckled. 'You two fought well. I'll make sure Sereniel hears of how well you did.'

I beamed at him, and Sabinus's face split into a smile, pride shining in his eyes. We stood there together, worn, wounded and tired, but triumphant, the sun shining warm and bright on our backs, glowing through the leaves and dappling the path with shadow and light. We had won.

And that was when the arrow sped out of nowhere and took Gurak through the throat.


	14. Grief

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

There are times when it can feel as if your life has been ripped apart, right in front of your eyes. As if the world is falling to pieces beneath your feet. As if you are witnessing the destruction of everything you have ever known.

It happens without warning. You never know when such moments will come. One second, you will be happy, safe, secure. There will be nothing that can hurt you. You cannot see how anything in the world could possible shatter your illusion of safety. Everything is as it should be.

And the next, the world is breaking apart around you. Your heart has been torn clean out of your chest. Everything you thought you knew has been revealed as a lie, and you are no longer certain of what is real and what is not. You cannot understand how you felt so certain of everything only moments before. You begin to even question who you are.

Reality becomes a foreign concept. Certainty is a word without meaning. Safety is turned into an impossibility.

And there is never any warning. No warning at all.

And I should know. Because I have lived through it. I understand, because I felt all of that myself. I learned how easily a world can be shattered the day that I lost a brother.

I saw those flint-coloured eyes shining. I saw his smile. I heard his chuckle. I felt my own triumph and joy burning within me. It was one of the proudest and greatest moments of my life, one that I would happily have frozen and lived in for eternity. Everything made sense, and everything was wonderful.

And then suddenly his eyes were widening, and his smile was dropping from his lips, and that chuckle was twisting and faltering and fading and dying. My delight and pride were snuffed out in an instant, like a candle thrown into water. The world seemed to freeze around me, and for the briefest of seconds I almost heard the trees gasp, heard the sky cry out in horror, as if the entire world had seen, and was watching in horror.

Gurak stood still as a rock, blinking slowly, the arrow embedded in his neck.

I waited for him to laugh, to yank it out and throw it away and make some sort of joke about how it would take more than that to stop him. But he didn't. And he didn't. And still, he didn't.

He let out a quiet sound. A cough, a gasp, and a choke, mixed together into the same noise. And my blood turned to ice. Because I knew that sound. It was the sound that the Wood Elf bandit had made back in Nightingale Hall as my dagger had found his heart.

And that was when I knew that my brother was lost.

Gurak fell slowly, as if the world was trying to hold on to him, to stop him from leaving it. But if that was so, it did not hold tight enough. It was a strange thing to watch, the huge, powerful Orc, built like a bear and sturdy as the hills, collapsing to the ground. It seemed wrong, somehow. Such a thing was like watching a mountain collapse.

He hit the ground. And I saw the man standing behind him. The bandit chief, his face a monstrous nightmare half-obscured by blood and twisted metal, holding the bow he had taken from the fallen Bosmer in his hands.

His bowstring was still shaking as he lowered the weapon, laughing.

And fury unlike any kind of fury I had ever experienced before took me. It swallowed me completely, engulfing me in an endless sea of rage. The colours of the entire world faded, leaving only angry red and deep, impenetrable black. And then suddenly I was moving forwards without even knowing that I was doing it, and with one hand I was sweeping aside the man's bow, and with the other I was slamming my knife into his armour. Bringing it crashing down onto the dull metal time after time. And suddenly it was buckling and breaking beneath my repeated strikes and even though the man's fists were raining blows down on me, I barely felt it. All I felt was pure rage, as I lifted my knife and thrust it through the hole I had made in that steel tunic, driving it down into the bandit's chest. I felt it pierce skin and flesh and bone, and there were burning, angry tears stinging my eyes as I withdrew the blade and stabbed the man again. And again, and again. I could hear Sabinus screaming my name and Gurak's name, and I could hear the bandit choking and crying and screeching, and I could hear my own breathless, maddened roar ripping through the air, but it was as if I heard all those sounds from the other side of an ocean. I dimly noticed that the bandit chief had crumpled, and that he was lying on the ground now, what was left of his face warped with agony.

And that was good. He should feel pain. As much pain as I could give to him.

I raised my knife. I brought it down. I raised my knife. I brought it down again. Blood sprayed into the air. And I struck until my arms no longer felt like a part of my body, and the action became simple, just another part of the world, something that just was, that existed in the same way as the wind and the sky and the sun existed-

'Gallus! Stop!'

My hand poised, ready to strike again, I hesitated.

'Stop. Please. He's dead, Gallus. He's dead.'

Suddenly, Sabinus was pulling me away. I let him. The dagger fell from my hand and clattered onto the road, a few drops of blood falling from its blade glistening on the stones.

I looked at it, and I looked at the bandit. He was lying still, his fists clenched, a gaping hole in his chest, his armour painted with his own blood.

Fear swept over me. A fear I had never encountered before. Fear of myself.

What had I become?

I had killed this man. That was nothing new to me. I had long been able to cope with killing. But he had been twice my size and three times my strength. And still I had been able to down him. And I had stabbed him again and again, even after he was dead-

I had never felt such hatred and fury in my entire life. Not even for my father. I had never even known that I was capable of holding such ferocity and savagery within me.

To be sure, this man had been half dead already. He had already been halfway to joining the Gods. Gurak had seen to that. But somehow, he had managed to find the strength to stand, to take the weapon of his dead comrade, to send that arrow into Gurak's neck-

I swallowed, looking at Sabinus. I saw the fright in his eyes as he met my gaze, and I knew that he feared me just as much as I did.

_What did I just do?_

At the edge of my vision, I saw Gurak stir. Hope shot through me, fierce and bright. He was not dead. Not yet lost. There might still be a chance that we could save him. If we were quick enough, there might be a slim hope that he might not die-

I turned my back on what was left of the bandit chief, sprinting to Gurak's side, Sabinus one step behind me. I dropped to my knees beside the Orc, my ears faintly registering the sound of my own voice calling his name.

The smoky grey eyes flickered open, meeting mine. Sabinus let out a low gasp of relief. 'He's alive.'

The shadow of a smile flitted across Gurak's face. 'Not for much longer, kid.'

'Don't say that, Gurak.' I shook my head frantically, and a few drops of blood flew from my hair. 'You're going to be fine.'

The Orsimer let out a shaky, unsteady sigh. 'Guild members ain't supposed to lie to each other, young'un.'

I spun around, grabbing Sabinus by the arm. 'You were carrying the healing potions.'

The Imperial shook his head numbly, raw pain in his hazel eyes. 'They… the bottles broke when that Breton threw me to the ground…'

He pointed, and I stared in blank horror at the sight of the broken shards of glass littering the road, the precious, life-giving liquid they had contained running away over the cobbles, wasting itself as it slowly seeped into the earth, taking the last of my hopes with it.

There was no way to save Gurak.

None.

He was going to die. And there was nothing we could do.

No. Not him. Please not him. Not Gurak, who had so readily welcomed me into the Guild. Not Gurak, who had always treated me like his own flesh and blood. Not Gurak. Oh, Gods above, _please _not Gurak.

But there was nothing we could do. Nothing anyone could do. The arrow was still piercing his throat, and blood was still trickling down his neck and onto the dull grey stones. So little blood, and yet I knew that the wound was fatal. Any wound that could fell Gurak had to be lethal. He never gave up. He always fought on. He would not abandon his Guild brothers. Because he was Gurak.

He would not fail in his duty. Not unless he was on the brink of death.

'Gurak,' I whispered, my voice catching in the back of my throat.

'Hey, don't you fret, kid. We all got to die someday. Today's as good a day as any for me.' His voice was so soft, so… weak. That shouldn't be. That wasn't right. Gurak was not weak. Gurak was never weak. Never. He was the strongest and bravest mortal I'd ever met. Weakness… that wasn't him. He never allowed weakness. Not in himself, not in anyone.

'No. Please.' Sabinus was gripping his mentor's hand as if he hoped that if he held tight enough, he might be able to stop the Orc from slipping away. 'You can't. Not now.' His entire body trembled.

Warmth glimmered faintly in Gurak's eyes, and he raised his head a fraction. 'Listen, Sabinus. You've got the makings of a great thief. You got talent like few others. You just need to find the confidence to use it.' He gazed into his apprentice's eyes. 'You promise me three things right now. One, you'll believe in yourself. Two, you'll follow your heart. And three…' He broke off, a sudden shudder running through his body.

'Three?' Sabinus breathed.

'Three,' Gurak repeated. 'Don't ever give up. You promise?'

Sabinus hesitated for a long moment, and from the look in his eyes, I would have thought that someone had torn out his heart. 'I promise,' he whispered.

'And you promise too, Gallus?'

I nodded, swallowing back the desperate sob that was rising in my throat. 'Of course.'

'Good.' Gurak let his head fall back onto the cobbles. 'You boys did good,' he murmured. 'I'm proud of you both. Tell Sereniel from me it was an honour to serve under her. And tell Orthwin he was the greatest friend anyone could've asked for. And tell the others that it was a pleasure to be their brother.'

'No. Stay with us, Gurak.' Tears flowed freely down Sabinus's cheeks, and I suddenly realised as I saw them that I was crying just as silently, just as strongly. 'Stay with us. Live and tell them yourself.'

'You're kidding, boy. I ain't going nowhere. Nowhere except to join my ancestors.' My Guild brother let out a rueful chuckle. 'Though what they'll say to me turning up in Thieves Guild gear with a fortune of stolen goods in my pocket, I dread to think.'

I tried to smile. Sabinus let out a choking sob.

'Cut out the tears, you two. No weakness, remember what always told you? And yeah, I'm allowed to be a hypocrite if I'm dying.'

I tried to blink the tears away, because I had no intention of disobeying Gurak. Not now. Not ever. But I simply could not stop them from coming. Because his words were a reminder that he would never tell either of us that again.

'Don't grieve for me. I had a good life. It's been fun, and what more could I ask for than that?' His ugly, battle-worn face creased into a smile. 'The Guild will go on, and the world will go on. And one day, maybe we'll see each other again.'

He breathed in deeply, and somewhere deep within me I knew that he was taking in his last taste of the air of the world he had so loved living in. 'Stay strong, Sabinus,' he murmured, his voice no louder than the gently sighing breeze. 'And Gallus…'

'Yes, Gurak?'

He winked at me. 'You live your life well… little brother.'

Gurak let out a long, heavy sigh, as if wear. A tiny shudder ran through his body. His eyes travelled upwards, seeking out the endless sky, high above him. A smile flickered across his face.

And as his sigh faded away into silence, I knew that those steel-coloured eyes no longer saw the sky that they still gazed calmly into. I knew that they saw nothing at all.

My Guild brother lay still on the ground, suddenly seeming so much smaller and weaker than he had only moments before, his eyes staring calmly, almost dreamily into the dazzling blue of the heavens. A beautiful, bright, clear sky that he could no longer see.

He no longer heard the hunting cries of the hawks, nor the sweet singing of the birds. He no longer heard the whisper of the breeze, or felt it blowing gently against him. He no longer felt the pain from the arrow that had claimed his life. He could not hear my voice repeating his name again and again, or feel me clutching his hand, trying to find some trace of life left within him. He could not hear Sabinus's howls of grief. He knew nothing. He had left Nirn behind. He had gone to join the Gods.

But it could not be. It could not be. Not Gurak. Not Gurak gro-Damug, the strongest and most fearless mortal I knew. No, not him. He was far too bold and strong and powerful and stubborn to be dead.

Gods, no. Surely the Divines could not be so cruel. It was impossible, it couldn't be, no, not Gurak.

But I knew that all the tears and questions and denials in the world could not change it. He was gone.

Forever.

I had not stopped it. I had not saved him. I should have seen that the bandit was still alive. I should have done something-

Why? Why Gurak? Why someone who everyone respected, someone everyone valued? Why not someone unimportant, who had little to offer, who the world would not grieve for? Why not me?

_Why? _I lifted my eyes to the sky, following Gurak's sightless gaze, as if I were trying to look into the eyes of the Divines. _Why have you done this? How could you do this? Why? Why? Why?_

As if from a thousand miles away, I saw Sabinus reach out and close Gurak's eyes.

'What are we going to do?' he whispered.

I shook my head. There was a barren emptiness inside me, a feeling of agony and loss that was beyond words. I had never felt this way before. Not even when Henja had been sent away. She had been my greatest friend, and I had lost her. But at least she was still alive, somewhere out there, beyond my sight and reach. But Gurak was gone beyond the sight and reach of anyone. He had gone where there was no reclaiming him, no finding him, no calling him back.

'I don't know,' I replied, my voice choked with tears. 'I don't know.'

And never in my life had I spoken words that were closer to the truth.

* * *

Desolate. That was the only word I could use to describe how I felt as I sat on the blanket of fallen leaves that covered the ground in a thousand different shades of orange, yellow, red and gold. The grief I felt for the fallen warrior who lay motionless on the forest floor beside me went beyond any words, beyond any description, beyond any imagination. I had never imagined it was possible to feel this empty, this heartbroken. The knowledge that Gurak had died and I had not been able to save him made me feel more worthless than I had thought it was possible to feel. The agony and the sorrow were still fresh within me, and though they no longer cut me to the core like swords, they could not be forgotten. It was a dull ache at the back of my mind, constantly there, constantly painful.

I looked at the sky. It was past noon. I let out a low groan. How long had we been here? Sitting and waiting? Waiting for the miracle to happen? Waiting for the nightmare to end?

I tried to count on my fingers. It had been about two hours past noon when Gurak had been slain. Sabinus and I had gone through our options, and none of them were good. We could try and return to Riften, but that would leave Gurak's body undefended against predators. Already we had been forced to fend off a sabre cat and three wolves. One of us could have gone and the other remained, but that would put both our lives at risk. Eventually, I had gone to find the coachman. He had drawn the line at hauling a dead Orc back to Riften, but he had set out for the city and promised to find Sereniel and tell her what had happened, and bring help as soon as possible.

That meant that he would have to make the gruelling, tedious and perilous ten and a half hour journey back to the city of thieves. And the Guild would have to send someone to find us, which meant almost a day would pass before help could reach us.

At least the wait would be almost over now. As night had fallen yesterday, we had dragged the corpses of the bandits into the woods and dumped them unceremoniously into a ditch, leaving them for the wolves and bears and hawks to find. After completing the unpleasant task, we had removed the arrow from our fallen friend's neck, snapped it in two, and flung it away. With some difficulty, due to the Orc's great weight and size, we had lifted Gurak away from the road and into the trees, laying him on the carpet of fallen leaves while we waited for help to arrive. We had sat vigil by his body during the night, neither of us feeling like sleep. When morning came, Sabinus had finally succumbed to his exhaustion, and I had kept watch while he fell into a fitful, restless slumber, in which he tossed and turned while murmuring words I could not hear in a frightened, urgent voice. As he slept, I sat beside the road, watching, waiting for any sign of help on the horizon.

After a few hours, Sabinus had awoken, and we had swapped places, with him watching the road and keeping guard. My sleep had been disturbed and plagued by nightmares- visions of dark things moving in a sea of blackness, and the eerie echoes of voices crying my name, shouting out warnings I could not remember when my own fear jolted me awake.

And now we were waiting. Sabinus was a little further away, back in the trees, gazing into the distance as he shredded a flower between his fingers. I was sitting on the roadside, leaping up every time I saw something approaching, and sitting down again when I saw it was just a courier, or a wandering Khajiit priest, or a group of merchants.

I knew that soon, they would come. Soon, it would all be over. But the wait was the most agonizing thing I had ever endured in all my life. Never before had I been forced to watch the death of a friend. Never before had I felt responsible for someone's death.

In my mind, I kept reliving Gurak's final moments. Was there anything I could have done to save him? Perhaps if I had been older, faster, stronger, wiser, I might have been able to have seen the bandit before he struck. If I had known anything of healing magic, perhaps I could have saved him. But plain, useless Gallus had not been able to do anything. How could I face the Guild after thus? How could I live with my family in the knowledge that I had been responsible for the death of one of their most trusted senior members?

I let out a long sigh, and buried my face in my hands. Not for the first time, I wished I had never been chosen by Nocturnal. Never before had I wished that I did have the ignorance and innocence of other children my age, but now I did. Now I wished that I could leave all this pain and guilt behind.

The breeze danced through the treetops, ruffling my hair. It carried with it a sound that made a gasp break from me, one that made me jump to my feet. It was the sound of hoofbeats, from more than one horse, coming steadily closer.

I peered out from behind a tree so that I could see the road clearly. It might well be another false alarm, but then again, it might not be.

A horse, white with jet black patches, rounded the corner, followed only moments later by a handsome red bay stallion. A third horse, this one without a rider, came after them. My heart leaped as I recognised the figures on the backs of the first two horses, and I crashed through the trees, into full view. 'Blade!' I shouted, trying to make my voice heard over the sound of the horses' hooves pounding against the ground. 'Orthwin!'

I saw them rein in their mounts and skid to a halt. Blade leaped from his steed's back instantly, his eyes wide as he dashed over to me. 'Gallus! Thank the Hist. We were beginning to despair of ever finding you. Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' I said quietly. It was half true. I was sound in body, but I knew my heart and mind and soul would never be the same.

'The carriage driver arrived back early this morning. He told us you were attacked by bandits.' Blade's copper eyes were wide with concern and fear, and as he bent down and grasped my shoulder I could feel his hand shaking.

I nodded. 'We did. Sabinus is just back there in the trees-'

'And Gurak?' Orthwin demanded, stepping forwards, his fists clenched and his face pale. 'Where is he?'

I swallowed, desperately looking for the right words. I had been dreading this so much. Mutely, I shook my head.

'The coachman told us that…' Blade hesitated uncertainly. 'He told us that Gurak was killed.'

I did not want to speak the words aloud. I did not want to confirm it. Some part of me still wanted to believe that it was not real, that Gurak was not dead, that it had all been some evil nightmare.

But I knew that it was real. And I knew I could not avoid the truth any longer.

The words, small and weak as the squeak of a mouse, slipped from my mouth almost without my noticing. 'He was.'

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the mournful howling of the wind.

'No.' Orthwin shook his head slowly, his scarred flesh quivering slightly. 'No. You're lying.'

'Orthwin.' Blade's voice was heavy with grief and despair, but there was still a tone of warning. 'Gallus doesn't lie.'

'Then he's mistaken. I don't believe it. It's not true.' Orthwin was towering over me now, his eyes blazing like green fire, and I had never understood better how he found it so easy to terrify stubborn assets into co-operating. 'Gurak wouldn't let a group of bandits kill him. Never.'

'We thought they were dead,' I stammered, taking a step backwards. 'He was shot from behind…'

Blade straightened up, glaring at the Nord. 'Orthwin, that's enough. If Gallus says that Gurak is dead, I don't see any reason why he would be lying.' The Argonian nodded to me. 'Can you take us to him, please, Gallus?'

I dipped my head. 'We took him over here,' I told them, leading them away from the road and into the trees.

The Nord and the Argonian followed me, their faces drawn and tense. I pushed aside branches and thorn bushes as I led them through the whispering pines to where I'd left my Guild brothers. Sabinus was sitting in the exact same position as he had been when I'd left him, his back against a pine tree, hugging his knees into his chest. Gurak lay stretched out on the carpet of pine needles and fallen leaves a little way away, that same expression of uncharacteristic dreamlike serenity on his face.

Orthwin let out a cry- a wordless, meaningless cry of pure rage and pain and horror. Pushing past Blade and I, he fell to his knees by the side of his oldest friend, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. I saw him shake his head in disbelief and denial, saw him grip the Orc's hand and shake his limp form, as if trying to jolt him back into life. He reminded me of one of the Dwemer in the ancient stories, trying to fix a broken automaton. The thought made my brow crease. The Dwemer animunculi were powered by steam and soul gems. If either was denied from them, their power was gone and they would be rendered helpless. So what was it that had left Gurak? Why could a little probing and fixing not make him go again? What was it that had suddenly disappeared, and why had it left him? How did that single arrow, badly made and fired from a warped and shabby bow, possess the power to wipe his soul from his body? How could a simple weapon made of iron and wood have destroyed the life of a fearless, seemingly undefeatable warrior thief?

Orthwin's howl threw me out of my thoughts and back into reality. The Nord had tipped back his head to the sky, and a sound like nothing I had ever heard before was ripping from his mouth. There were no words, just fury and agony, as if everything he had ever loved had just been destroyed in front of his eyes. I looked at Sabinus, and I saw my own pain and fear mirrored in his eyes.

Blade lowered his head. 'How did this happen?' he whispered, and from the sudden stiffness in his voice, I could tell that he was fighting back tears.

I didn't trust myself to speak, and so I remained silent until Sabinus spoke up, biting his lip, his gaze fixed on the ground. 'There was a gang of bandits. They covered the turning to the stables with bushes, and because we were talking, we didn't notice. We just walked past. And they were waiting for us.'

'How many?' Blade asked, his voice quiet and filled with grief, but with kindness and warmth in it too.

Sabinus seemed to take strength from the Argonian's gentle tone, raising his head slightly and answering with a touch more confidence. 'About ten.'

'Ten?' Orthwin's voice was so thick with tears that I could barely make out the word. 'You're telling me that Gurak couldn't defeat ten damn bandits with you two helping him? He could defeat twenty without taking any injuries at all, I've seen him do it!'

'We did defeat them,' Sabinus told him. 'We thought that they were dead. But their leader was still alive, somehow, and he shot Gurak from behind just as we thought we'd won.'

'And you didn't stop him?' Orthwin snarled, rising to his feet. 'You just let him die?'

'There was nothing we could have done!' The words broke from my throat before I could think about them. 'Don't you think we would have saved him if we could?'

Orthwin looked at his fallen friend, saying nothing.

'And happened to the one who killed him?' Blade's hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. 'The Guild avenges its dead.'

A sudden glint awoke in Orthwin's eyes, and I saw him beginning to reach for his warhammer.

'He's dead.' Sabinus folded his arms, casting me a look I couldn't read. 'Gallus killed him.'

Both Nord and Argonian looked at me in surprise, and I could see them wondering. Wondering how a child could have possibly overpowered someone capable of killing Gurak. Wondering how I had lived when he had died. Wondering, perhaps, where the justice was, in me living on when Gurak was gone.

I simply looked at the ground. I did not want to remember what I had become as I had driven my blade into that man's heart. Was this the curse of having Nocturnal's favour?

'Then you have avenged him,' Blade said softly. 'You have put his soul at rest.'

Orthwin let out a low growl. 'A pity. I'd gladly hunted him down and made sure that he suffered before he died.'

'He suffered,' I said quietly.

The scarred Nord grunted. 'Good.'

Blade sighed, looking mournfully at the still figure at his feet. 'We must return to Riften. He must be laid to rest in his home. Sabinus, will you ride with Orthwin? Gallus, I shall take you.'

Three heads nodded. Orthwin bent down and scooped up Gurak in his arms as if he weighed no more than a kitten. His head hanging low, and his body still wracked with silent sobs, he led the way through the trees, to where the horses waited to bear us home.

Together, Blade and Orthwin heaved the empty shell that had once been Gurak gro-Damug, warrior, thief and brother of the Thieves Guild of Riften, onto the back of the third horse. Blade lifted me up into the saddle of his own steed. Sabinus clambered onto Orthwin's mount, the Nord following a moment later.

None of us spoke as we made the journey home. There were no words worth saying. There no words that could express our grief. There were no words left in us to say.

* * *

'You can't leave.'

Sereniel faced Orthwin, her green eyes burning with pain and shock, her arms folded. The rest of the Guild watched in silence, nobody daring to speak a single word.

'I can, Sereniel, and I have to. There's no place for me here anymore.' There was sorrow in Orthwin's voice, but no hesitation. I knew in my heart that he had already made the decision, and that all the words Sereniel could say would not be able to change his mind.

'There's always been a place for you here, Orthwin. There has been from the day that you and Gurak stepped in through the door of the Flagon, and there always will be.'

'That's just it.' Orthwin shook his head slowly. 'I never really did fit in here. I don't know the first thing about stealth. I'm no real thief. I've always thought of this place as my home since the day I came here, but I can't any more. Gurak was practically my own flesh and blood. And if he's dead, I've nothing to stay for.'

Sereniel's brow furrowed- whether in confusion or disbelief I could not be sure. 'What about us? We are your family, Orthwin. You're one of us.'

'Sereniel, it's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done for me. I owe a lot to you. And to all the others.' Orthwin cast his gaze over the rest of his brothers and sister thieves, watching with sorrow and apprehension in their eyes. 'But I can't stay here. Not if Gurak's gone. I'd be haunted by his memory forever. I have to move on.'

Our Guildmaster stared at him for a moment longer, then slowly bowed her head. 'Very well. I understand. And I respect your decision.' She looked up at him again. 'But where will you go?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know. Anywhere. Just away from here. Maybe even away from Skyrim.' He let out a long sigh. 'Maybe I'll wander Tamriel, see the other lands. Find somewhere I can fit in.'

Sereniel nodded. 'I wish you all the best, brother.'

The others around me murmured assent. Orthwin gave a twisted grin. 'Thank you. All of you. I enjoyed my time here while it lasted. But now I have to leave.'

'When are you going?' Blade's voice was laden with mourning- an emotion mirrored within my own heart. Was the Guild truly to lose two senior members so quickly?

'Now. At once. I don't want to give myself a chance to change my mind.'

Sereniel bowed her head. 'Gods go with you, Orthwin.'

Blade placed one fist on his heart and bowed. 'May the Hist guide you.'

'Eyes open, Orthwin,' Dralsi called, her crimson eyes sparkling with tears. 'Walk with the shadows.'

The others called their farewells, and I found my own voice joining them. Perhaps I had never seen eye to eye with Orthwin, but he had still been my brother, and the loss of him on top of that of Gurak was a heavy blow.

Orthwin grinned sadly. 'You lot take care of yourselves. If we never see each other again, then may the Nine light your paths.'

He turned without any further ado, walking quickly and confidently towards the exit of the Cistern. The Guild members parted to let him through, and I watched him walk out of my life, knowing that he would never return, that this was the last time I would see him. He placed his hand on the ladder, half turned, as if wondering if he should say something more, shook his head slightly, and climbed upwards, out of sight. I heard the sound of the trapdoor opening, the secret entrance grinding backwards to allow him out. A few seconds later, it clicked back into place, and I knew that he was gone.

I closed my eyes. Now two of our number were gone. Gurak lay in the graveyard, beneath the stone where we had gathered to say our final goodbyes and to honour his sacrifice. And now Orthwin had left us in search of a chance to live another life. Two of our strongest warriors and most respected members were gone, in as many days. And neither of them would ever be returning.

There were a few seconds of complete silence. Then Dralsi spoke up.

'Sereniel,' she said softly. 'I need to talk to you. Alone.'

The Wood Elf looked in surprise at the Dunmer, but dipped her head. The two elf women left the Cistern together, leaving the rest of us standing in silence once more.

* * *

I sat with my back against the wall of the city, watching the stars.

I didn't feel like sleeping this night. I feared having more nightmares, and I was not tired, despite the long journey home. And yet I could not stay in the Cistern, with the still-weeping Guild members and the never-ending murmur of the voices of the others, who also seemed to be having trouble falling asleep. Sabinus had gone out like a light the moment his head had touched his pillow, but the insistent muttering had stopped me from being able to get any rest. And so I had come out here. I was sitting by the shrine of Talos, just beside the graveyard, feeling comforted by the presence of the mighty hero-god. To be sure, he was only a statue, but it made me feel a little better to know that I was in the sight of the Divines this night.

There was a sudden scraping sound, and I looked up in surprise as Dralsi emerged from the secret entrance. She smiled as she made her way over to me, taking a seat by my side.

'I thought I might find you out here,' she told me quietly. 'Trouble sleeping?'

I nodded wordlessly.

'I'm not surprised.' My mentor let out a long, heavy sigh, her gaze travelling upwards to the inky blackness of the heavens. 'This has been hard for you. It's been difficult for all of us, but for you especially. Nobody should have to watch a friend die.'

Now that I was alone with the mortal I trusted most in the world, I found myself suddenly able to voice my innermost feelings. 'Dralsi, I keep thinking that it was my fault. I should have been able to save him.'

She shook her head, smiling fondly at me. 'I should have known that you'd be thinking that. That's just like you, Gallus. Never a thought for yourself, always feeling responsible for everyone else.' She interrupted me as I opened my mouth to protest. 'I don't mean that as an insult. Of course I don't. It's a trait all too few people have.'

'But if I'd seen that bandit-'

'If you'd seen that bandit, he would almost certainly have fired that arrow the moment you gave a warning to the others. And it might not have been Gurak he chose. It might have been you.' She looked into my eyes. 'Listen, I'm by no means saying that one mortal life is worth more than another's, because that's not true. But I knew Gurak well enough to be certain that if it could have been a choice between him and you or Sabinus, he would have sacrificed himself without a moment's thought. You are young, and you have your whole life ahead of you. You were not responsible for what happened to Gurak. No one is. It was his time to die, and he has gone to join his ancestors now. He has gone to a far better place than Nirn.'

I nodded slowly. 'Before he died, Gurak made me promise. He told me and Sabinus that we had to believe in ourselves, follow our hearts, and never give up.'

Dralsi chuckled. 'That's typical of him. He'd never leave the world behind without making sure he gave some of its people something to remember him by.' She laid a hand on my shoulder. 'That was good advice he gave you. Follow it always.'

I smiled. The Orc's last words echoed in my ears. _You live your life well… little brother._

That had been his dying wish. And if I intended to honour his memory, then I would obey it.

The Dark Elf sighed again. 'I didn't come out here to talk to you about Gurak, actually. There's something I have to tell you.'

I looked at her curiously, and I saw the look in her eyes. My heart seemed to drop out of my chest.

'No,' I whispered. 'You're not leaving.'

She smiled sorrowfully. 'I'm sorry, Gallus.'

'No!' I shook my head frantically. 'Not you too. We've already lost Gurak and Orthwin-'

'I know.' Dralsi bowed her head. 'It's selfish of me, really, to leave the Guild behind when it most needs me there. But I've spoken to Sereniel, and she agrees with me that if I'm going to leave, it should be now. One deep wound is easier to recover from than many, dealt over time.'

'But we need you.' I could feel tears threatening me, and I did not try to fight them back. 'You've still got so much to teach me.'

Dralsi shook her head. 'I know, Gallus. Please, don't make me feel guiltier than I already do. But I have to leave now, or I'll keep putting it off. I have a husband and a daughter, and they need me with them. And I belong with them now.'

I tried to find the right words to argue, but I knew that there were none. She was right. Her flesh and blood family needed her far more than her adopted family did. And she needed them far more than she needed us.

'Blade will teach you well,' Dralsi assured me. 'He's wise and kind and patient.'

'But he's not you.'

She looked up at the stars again. 'I know. I am sorry, Gallus. Truly sorry. But it is now or never, and it cannot be never.'

She smiled suddenly. 'And this won't be the last you see of me. I'll come round here visit now and again, and if you're ever passing through Shor's Stone, feel free to drop in.' Her scarlet eyes shone with warmth. 'And when you arise to take your place as Nightingale, I'll be there to see you through.'

My teacher got to her feet, and I did the same. 'I'll never forget everything you've taught me,' I mumbed. 'Thank you, Dralsi. For bringing me here, and being my sister and my teacher and… well, for everything.'

'Thank you, Gallus. I've never had a better pupil. And before I go, I'd like you to have this. To remember me by, I suppose.' The Dunmer reached into her pocket and brought out a small book, leather bound, with the symbol of the Nightingales embossed on the cover. She smiled at me as she pressed it into my palm. 'It's not much, but I think you'll find a use for it.'

I opened the cover and flicked through the pages of creamy parchment. The pages were blank, but as I looked at them, something Marcella had once said to me came to mind. _No book has empty pages. Every blank page is filled with opportunity._

I closed the book, looking up at Dralsi with a smile. 'Thank you.' I swallowed before adding, 'Goodbye, Dralsi. It's been an honour.'

'The honour was all mine, Gallus.' My mentor gave me a quick hug. 'I'll be seeing you soon, I promise. This isn't goodbye.'

I grinned at her. 'Farewell for now, then, _kena.'_

_Kena _was a Dunmeris word, a term of respect, one used for an honoured teacher. Dralsi's smile grew wider. 'Follow your dreams, _ser.'_

I laughed. 'I don't think I've ever been a _ser.' _

Dralsi placed her hands on my shoulders. 'Gallus, you are one of the bravest and wisest people I have ever met. You a loyal friend, a true warrior, and a born leader. When I look into the future, I see a day when there are many who will address you with far more respect than that.'

She rubbed her hands together briskly. 'The night is dark, and the road is long,' she said softly. 'It's time for me to return home.'

I blinked back tears, and repeated the words that she had said so many times to me. 'Eyes open. Walk with the shadows.'

My teacher nodded, still smiling. 'And you, Gallus. May our Lady's grace go with you.'

I watched as she walked away, vanishing into the shadows of the alleyways. I knew that it had to be, and that in truth, I had always known that this day would one day come. But it still felt as if my heart were being torn in two as my teacher, my sister, my saviour and my friend disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind only a small book and a world of blissful memories.

But as I stared into the alley where she had vanished from sight, it was as if every lesson she had ever taught me and every tiny piece of wisdom she had ever shared with me flooded through my mind anew. Dralsi was like me. She kept her promises, and she never lied. If she said that I had a great future ahead of me, then she was right.

I looked up, staring into the shining gaze of the stars, and I thought of all the people I had cared for who were now in my past. My mother. Marcella. Henja. Gurak. Orthwin. And now Dralsi, too. Some of them I might one day see again, if the Gods were kind. Some of them lost forever, never to be found again. Not in this lifetime.

Gurak's voice echoed within my mind. _Live your life well, little brother._

There, bathed in the silver and ruby light of the twin moons, I lifted my eyes to the endless sky and swore a solemn oath- to my lost friends, to Nocturnal, to the Divines, and to myself- that I would.

* * *

**RIP, Gurak. I'm sorry for killing him, but it was one of those things that had to happen for the story to progress. Sadly that's the last we'll be seeing of Orthwin, too. Dralsi will be returning a few times, though.**

**I have a small announcement to make... today marks a year on FanFiction for me! I've loved my experience on this site so far, and it's been great to have so much positive feedback and support. So can I take this oppurtunity to thank everyone who's helped me to come this far! I really, really appreciate it!**

**I'll be seeing you guys next chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	15. Brother

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_19__th__ of Mid Year_

_I should have done this a long time ago._

_It's been a long time since Dralsi gave me this book. If I'm going to be honest- and honesty is a virtue I value highly- I should have started writing in it the day it was first given to me. My only problem was not knowing what to put in it. Blade suggested writing down training techniques, sword skills, that sort of thing, but this was Dralsi's parting gift to me and I want to use it for something more special than that. Keeping a journal was my first thought, but I decided against it- mostly because I was worried that one of the others might find it and decide to take a look. They are my brothers and sisters after all, and what do siblings exist for if not to annoy you?_

_So I put this book in my chest and there it stayed for some time. But recently, I found it again, buried underneath piles of tomes and spare tunics and stolen goods. I brushed the dust from its cover and ran my hand over its smooth, soft pages. Pages that were blank, yet filled with opportunity. And I decided that the time has come to arise to that opportunity. After all, I've never been one to back down from a challenge._

_The problem of keeping my words hidden from the others was quickly solved, after a little thought. I'm writing the whole thing in the ancient tongue of the Falmer. I doubt any of my colleagues will understand a word of the language, so the thoughts I write here belong to me, and to me alone. And that is the way it should be. Maybe in ten years I'll look back and read through it again, and laugh at how foolish I was… but for now, I need somewhere to express the thoughts I know I can never speak to anyone, not even to the people I trust the most. And I know that this is the place._

_I feel like it's important to write about who I am, even though I'm the only one who'll ever read this journal. It seems pointless, but I have a sudden urge to do it. And a friend of mine once told me to always follow my heart. It was one of the last things he ever said to me, and I have never forgotten it._

_My name is Gallus Desidenius. Not that the name Desidenius means much anymore- to me, or to anyone else. I left my family behind a long time ago, and I will never return. I was never truly one of them. Had my mother lived, perhaps things would have been different, but she did not live. She died. The Dark Brotherhood murdered her, when I was only four years old. Her name was Perdita. I wish I could say more about her than that. But I know so little about her. All I know is her name and that she looked like me. She had my eyes. And there is one more thing about her that I know, and that is that she loved me. And I loved her, too, even though I hardly knew her._

_After she died, my father began to hate me. He had disliked me for a long time, but it was only then that he truly began to hate me. And I was only six years of age when I decided that I would not take it any longer. I left behind my family, and the safety that my home offered me, and struck out alone._

_That was… four years ago, now, making me ten years old. Ten years old and already one of the best at what I do. Which is stealing. I am the youngest member of the Riften Thieves Guild – and I am proud of it. Some people might not think it is a thing to be proud of, but I know that it is. I was born to be a thief. The will to live outside the law… I think it's in my blood. I am a born rebel anyway, and my father's wish to dominate and control me only ever caused the opposite to happen. I have been a thief maybe since the day I was born, and definitely since I stole for the first time, to help a friend who needed me…_

_Now that I think of her, and of the times that we shared together, I know that I am writing this for Henja. She was… probably the greatest friend I've ever had. She was older than me by a year or two, but she looked younger, and her being a little older never made any difference to your friendship. We used to play together, laugh together, smile together. We would spend hours in that little glade in the forest, the one where the silver stream ran through the white and blue and pink flowers, lost in dreams of other worlds, other lands, other lives._

_I don't know where you are, Henja. I don't know what's happened to you. I don't even know if you're still alive. But this is for you, Henja Snow-Walker. This is for you._

_That's just one more thing I have to hate my father for. For sending Henja away. That was when everything came to a head between us, and that was when I decided to run…_

_And I ran here. I came to Riften, to the Thieves Guild. _

_And I am glad that I did._

_I'll write more about my past later. Remembering it now pains me. I don't like to think about all I left behind, so I will think about what I have been given now. The present is what matters. The present and the future._

_I'd better be quick writing this. Blade will be after me in a few minutes. He said we've got sword practice at noon. Draws-His-Blade is my mentor, now that Dralsi's gone. Of course, no one could ever replace Dralsi, but Blade is probably the best mentor I could have after her. He's kind and wise and brave and clever and patient. And he has plenty to teach me- he's skilled with both the sword and the lockpick. Talking of swords, I never noticed I was growing, but now I need to use a proper sword instead of using the dagger that my Khajiit friends gave me, so I must have grown. And I can see over the top of Sereniel's desk without standing on tiptoe. And I'm actually beginning to grow out of my Guild armour, even though Ahsla left me plenty of growing room when she made it. Yes, I've grown a lot since I joined the Guild- both in body and in mind. And maybe in soul, too._

_So much has changed since Dralsi brought me through the entrance of the Cistern. I still sometimes walk into the Flagon and stop in confusion when I see Farmund and Ahsla wearing the black armour of the senior members. And then I remind myself that Gurak is dead and Orthwin and Dralsi are gone. Now, it's just Sereniel, Blade, Ahsla, Farmund, Silent, Fjella, Elandine, Sabinus, Sranys and me. And Manji and Whisper, if they count. Not that it troubles anyone. I miss Gurak and Dralsi and Orthwin, but those of us that remain are still a family, and in truth, all is well. We still get our missions done, our jobs complete. The wealth is still pouring in from every direction. The loss of three senior members was a hard blow, but we've recovered. We might even have been strengthened. And now we're going on. You can't stop the Thieves Guild._

_Of course, I'll always wonder where Orthwin's path has led him, and I'll pray for Gurak until the day I die. They were true friends, noble warriors and master thieves. Gurak should never have died, and Orthwin should never have felt that he had to leave us. But what's done is done. I'm not a one to dwell on the past. I keep my eyes on the future._

_When I think about what happened to Gurak and Orthwin, I realise that it's good that Dralsi hasn't really left us permanently. All right, so she'll never do jobs for us again, but she's still one of us, in a way. She drops in to visit every now and again, to see how we're doing and to give us advice. Recently, though, I've not seen much of her, because she's been staying at home a lot. Her husband, Elrandor, died a little while ago, leaving Dralsi along to bring up their daughter. I met Elrandor once or twice, and he was a good man. I could easily see how he and Dralsi could fall for each other. She loved him like anything, and now he's gone. Poor Dralsi. She's so brave and selfless. Someone like her doesn't deserve to have such sorrow in their life. But she's still got her daughter, I suppose, so at least she's not completely alone. It must be awful, to lose someone you love like that. I wonder… did my father feel the same grief that Dralsi feels now after the death of my mother? And why did he take it out on me, his own son, when Dralsi has grown even closer to her Karliah after Elrandor's death?_

_I suppose I'll never understand. I am nothing like my father. I never have been, and I hope I never will be. I am myself, and that is the only person I ever want to be. __And you know what the best thing is? Here, at last, I can actually be who I want to be. Nobody judges me, nobody condemns me. They accept me for who I am- and I love them for it._

_If there is one thing that saddens me, it's that there's no one here I can really call a best friend. Not in the way I called Henja a best friend. Of course, I like everyone here. Sabinus and I are good friends- what we went through together in Solitude has seen to that- and Blade is so close to me that I often have to remind myself that he is not my flesh and blood brother. Farmund, Fjella, Sranys, Silent… all of them, they're all my friends and my brothers and my sisters. They mean so much to me. So much. But none of them I can actually think of as a best friend. I suppose it's because there are none here who are my age. It's hard to understand someone in the way you have to in order be a best friend if you are far older than they are._

_No matter. Sereniel says that such a long lull in recruiting means that there's bound to be more members soon. And maybe one of them can be a true friend to me._

_Blade's calling me. He promised that today he'd teach me a move to disarm my opponents. I can't wait- it'll help to give me an edge in combat, which I sorely need, seeing as I'm so much smaller and weaker than many of my adversaries. It's strange, really- I love learning to fight, despite that fact that I hate killing and battles, and that none of my family have been warriors. It must be something to do with Nocturnal choosing me as one of her Sepculchre's guardians. I just feel right with a blade in my hand. I used to feel so angry at having these skills given to me, instead of being granted by my own talent and effort, but… I think I've come to terms with it now._

_I'll explain about Nocturnal later. All of that… my destiny, the Nightingales, the Twilight Sepulchre and the gifts I've been given… that's not a story I want to tell right now._

_I think Blade's getting impatient. I'd better go._

* * *

'Eyes on the sword, Gallus, eyes on the sword!'

I ducked under my mentor's blade as he swung it towards my head, moving just in time to avoid the blow. I drew back my arm and lunged in, aiming for his hand. The tip of my wooden training sword grazed his pale beige scales, but though he winced, he did not drop his weapon. I cursed angrily, and tried again, but by that time Blade had retreated a pace and a half, out of my reach. 'Good!' he called, nodding approvingly. 'Very good.'

'But I didn't make you drop it,' I said, my brow furrowing as I paused for breath.

The Argonian chuckled. 'Yes, but if that had been a real sword, and I'd been a real enemy, I expect it would have worked. You're coming along nicely.'

I allowed a smile to creep a little way over my face. 'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it. One word of advice- you need to stop watching my eyes. Focus on my body. Never look at an opponent's face. If they realise that you're doing it, they'll use it to trick you. They'll look to the left and make you think that's where they're aiming, when in reality they're about to attack from the right.'

I nodded slowly, running the information through my mind, soaking in every word, making sure I could never forget. 'Got it.'

'You're a fast learner.' Blade beamed at me, before bringing his own wooden sword up into a ready position. 'Let's see if you've taken all that in properly.'

Without warning, he lashed out, aiming for my stomach. Three or four years ago, I would never have been able to avoid the strike, but the intensive training I'd undergone in the Guild had heightened my instincts and sharpened my reflexes. I sidestepped the blow and brought my sword upwards. Our weapons collided with a dull _thunk, _and the force of my attack was enough to knock his blade upwards, away from its trajectory. Suddenly unbalanced, Blade was forced to leap backwards to avoid my next strike before it collided with his head, before retaliating with a sharp, vicious swing towards my head. I ducked and sent a low blow towards his legs. He let out a surprise hiss as my blow made contact, and if I had been a little stronger, I would have been able to make him stagger. As it was, it was still enough to distract him for the few vital seconds that were all the time I needed to bring my blade up, smacking against his hand. His grip loosened instinctively, and it was simple to give a quick twist of my weapon and send his sword flying from his grasp and clattering to the floor.

A wide smile spread over the Argonian's face. 'Excellent. You've picked this up quickly. You need to try and keep your body turned to the side if possible- give me less of you to hit- but that's pretty much your only flaw. You're following your attacks up quickly, and you're making good use of your skills. You should be proud.'

I returned his grin. This was one of the many things I loved about Blade. He gave me praise where it was due, and he wasn't afraid to criticise me when I needed my mistakes pointed out. He never pushed me to accomplish anything he knew was beyond my capabilities, but anything that I could achieve, he made sure I achieved. I missed Dralsi bitterly, but I knew that after her, Blade was the best teacher I could have.

Blade sat down on a crate and ran a hand through his dark tawny feathers. 'Let's take a moment to rest before we continue. We can discuss a few more tactics while you catch your breath.'

I nodded gratefully and took a seat next to him. 'Can I ask something? About fighting?'

'Fire away.' The Argonian dipped his scaly head.

'I don't know how to use a bow. Or magic. So what happens if I'm being attacked by someone from long range? I mean, if I try to run at them I'll be exposing myself.' It was a question that had been weighing on my mind since the day Gurak died. He had been a close range fighter, and an attack from a distance had been his downfall.

'A very sensible question.' Blade pressed the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. 'What you have to bear in mind is that a ranger will often only have the advantage at long range. The trick is to cover the distance between you as quickly as you can without getting killed.'

'So how do I do that?'

My mentor laughed, holding up a hand. 'Give me a moment. I was coming to that. It's a simple matter of making sure you don't get hit. Just keep moving, and don't run in a straight line. Move from side to side, and try to make sure your movements aren't predictable. If you move quickly enough, you'll be upon them before they can land a hit. Bear in mind, of course, that it's hard to hit a moving target, and if they do manage to strike you, it's unlikely that they'll hit something vital.'

I nodded. 'And what happens if-'

I broke off, suddenly distracted by movement on the other side of the Cistern. Elandine was entering the Cistern via the graveyard entrance. There was nothing so unusual about that, but what piqued my interest was her companion. I watched as he hopped off the end of the ladder and surveyed the scene around him with a critical eye, taking in every barrel, brick wall and pool of water as if trying to carve them all into his memory. Elandine snapped something, and he turned to her with a small shrug, saying something I couldn't catch. A new recruit, I thought in delight. And no ordinary recruit. He could not be any older than I was.

With Elandine leading him, he slowly crossed the Cistern to stand beside Sereniel's desk. I turned my head towards them, straining my ears to pick up their conversation.

'… and would have got away with it, if not for the fact that he sneezed just before he grabbed my purse,' Elandine was saying. 'The little rat's got a lot of promise. So he needs to tidy up his stealth skills, but I reckon we could make something of him.'

'Gods above. We're running a Guild, not an orphanage,' Sereniel groaned, but from her tone I could tell that she said it in jest. 'So, boy, you think you have what it takes to join us?'

The boy glanced at her, and I was startled my how disinterested he looked. 'Sure. I can steal anything I want to. What's to discuss?'

Sereniel's eyes narrowed. 'Being a Guild member isn't just about being able to steal a few purses, or pick a lock. It's about being committed to your Guild brothers and sisters, and giving everything you have to them. We are a family. And you need to understand that.'

He gave a noncommittal grunt.

Elandine raised one eyebrow. 'I admit, he's not got the best attitude,' she shrugged. 'But I think we could whip the kid into shape. Given time.'

'The kid's got a name, you know,' the boy snapped. 'And the kid doesn't appreciate being talked about like he's not there. And the kid would like to point out that just because he's young, it doesn't mean that he can't steal.'

Sereniel let out one of her bark-like bouts of laughter. 'Ha! You don't need to tell me that. We've taken younger than you.'

The boy blinked, and I could tell that the information had taken him by surprise. I smiled to myself, knowing who it was that Sereniel was talking about. I knew full well that I was the youngest full Guild member not to be born into the team that had ever existed. At least, as far as we knew. I looked at the boy in interest, hoping that he'd accept the offered position. It would be a relief to finally have someone of my own age to talk to.

'So, what do you say?' Elandine folded her arms.

'Me or her?' the boy asked, still somehow managing to look like the entire thing was beneath him.

'Both of you,' Elandine snapped.

Sereniel regarded him for a few moments, then nodded. 'Fjella's pretty much finished her training. We can give him to Farmund to mentor, now he's done with her.' She leaned over the desk, locking onto the boy's gaze. 'Listen, son, and listen well. If you obey the rules, you'll make a fortune from working with us.'

'Rules?' The boy's greenish-grey eyes widened. 'We're thieves. Why would we need rules?'

Blade, next to me, let out a quiet, disapproving hiss, and I couldn't help but allow my smile to widen.

'Because we're not just a band of common bandits,' Sereniel growled, slamming her hand down on the table. 'We're a Guild. A family. We are all responsible for each other. We are brothers and sisters. And even if the people of Skyrim don't know it, we play a bigger part than you might think in keeping this country together. We will not tolerate anyone who gives us a worse name than we have already, or anyone who isn't fully committed. If you can't understand that, then you'll never be one of us. Understand?'

The only response was a shrug. 'It's all the same to me.'

'That'll do.' Sereniel straightened up. 'El, take him to Ahsla. She can kit him out in his Guild armour. And then go and introduce him to Farmund.'

'Consider it done.' The High Elf woman dipped her head. 'Come along, kid.'

'Not a kid,' the boy muttered, but he gave what might have been a respectful not to Sereniel before following Elandine.

Blade stared after his retreating back for a moment, then shrugged. 'Well? What do you think of him?'

'It'd be nice if he stayed,' I replied. 'So that I could have someone of my age around.'

'Agreed.' Blade frowned. 'He needs to learn a little respect, though.'

'He probably will, after a while. I think it's hard not to respect Sereniel.'

Blade chuckled. 'I couldn't agree more.' He got to his feet, picking up his training sword. 'Right, then. Shall we get back to business?'

I nodded, putting the boy out of my mind, allowing the world to shrink to contain only Blade and I. 'Ready.'

My mentor lunged towards my head. 'Remember, body to the side, eyes on the blade!'

I parried his strike and leaped backwards to allow myself more room to manoeuvre. Within seconds, I had lost myself in a blurred world of blows, blocks and blades.

* * *

I held my sword up to the light, smiling as the golden glow from the lanterns glimmered on its shining steel surface. Even if Sereniel had a rule that we were only to use wooden weapons when training, she had no problem with us carrying real weapons with us, as long as we never used them. One of the proudest moments of my life had been when Blade presented me with this sword. It was nothing special- simply designed, made of steel, and a little shorter than an average blade. But, after my ebony dagger, it was my most prized possessions. It was not only a weapon- it was a symbol of the Guild's trust for me. They thought that I was wise enough, strong enough, mature enough and brave enough to bear a sword. And I had no plans to prove them wrong.

I reached the cloth I had been using to clean the blade, and as I did, I began to feel that curious sensation that a mortal will often get when another is watching them. It is one of many inexplicable phenomena in this world, that anyone who you gaze at for long enough shall eventually become aware of you. Now, feeling that there were eyes upon me, I frowned and glanced up, meeting a pair of grey-green eyes.

'Oh,' I said, surprised. 'Hello.'

'How old are you?' asked the boy.

I blinked. 'How old are you?'

He crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively. 'Nine and eleven twelfths.'

I tried to suppress a flash of triumph within me. 'I'm ten.'

He let out a disgusted snort. 'I hoped I might not be the youngest. How long have you been here?'

'Four years,' I told him, laying my sword on one side.

His eyes widened slightly, and I could see that he was a little impressed. 'Since you were six?'

I nodded. 'I was recruited by one of the old senior members a little while after I ran away from home. They offered me a place, and I never left.'

He chewed his lip in a thoughtful manner. 'What's your name?'

I gave him a small smile. 'Gallus Desidenius.'

'Oh, right. You're an Imperial.' He rubbed his hands together. 'I'm Mercer. Mercer Frey.'

_Breton, _I thought, standing up from the crate where I had been seated. 'Pleasure to meet you,' I told him, holding out my hand.

He hesitated for a moment, then took it with a small nod. 'And you.'

'So, how did you end up down here?' I asked him. 'Elandine found you, didn't she?'

He nodded. 'If Elandine is an Altmer with a long nose and a beastly temper, then yeah. I tried to grab her purse. Nearly did, too. Trouble was, I sneezed. So of course, she found me. Next thing I knew she was dragging me down here.'

I laughed, despite myself. 'That sounds very like her. But El doesn't have a long nose!'

The boy- Mercer- sniggered. 'I'm sorry, but she does. If I was the same height as her, I probably couldn't stand facing her without getting poked by it.'

I had to cover my mouth with my hands. 'I wouldn't let her hear you say that. You'll probably end up frozen in a lump of ice.'

'She's one of those mage types, then? Thought as much.' Mercer shrugged. 'Guess that's why they asked that Nord guy to mentor me instead of her. I'm no good at magic.'

'Farmund's good,' I told him. 'He's nice. He knows what he's talking about, and he's patient. He'll make a good teacher.'

'Glad to hear it.' Mercer seated himself casually on a crate, and I couldn't help but notice how at home he already seemed. He was clearly one of those confident people who it was impossible to catch off guard. 'Because I'm planning on being the best thief this Guild's got to offer.'

I sat down next to him, grinning. 'Oh, really? You've got to beat me, first.'

He swept his eyes over me carelessly. 'Shouldn't be too much of a challenge…'

'You think so?' I snatched up my wooden training sword. 'Want to put that to the test?'

His eyes narrowed, and a glint of anticipation crept into his eyes. 'Give me a weapon, and I'll wipe the ground with you any day.'

I tossed him a weapon. 'We'll have to see, won't we?'

There was a quiet cough from behind us, and I turned my head to see Blade standing a few feet away, his hands on his hips. 'What are you up to, boys?'

'Just a friendly challenge, Scaly,' Mercer said carelessly.

My eyes widened, and for a moment I felt a flash of anger. What right did he have to insult my mentor? Blade was one of the wisest and kindest people I knew. Quite apart from the fact that he was the Guild's second in command, he deserved to be treated with respect.

To my surprise, though, the Argonian's only response was to chuckle. 'I guess Elandine and Sereniel were right about you,' he smiled. 'I'll let that comment pass, seeing as you're new. But I'd prefer to be called by my name, thank you.'

Mercer glanced at him. 'Which is?'

The Argonian smiled. 'Draws-His-Blade. And I was named such for a reason.'

Before either of us could move or speak, his sword was between us, drawn and readied so quickly that I would never have seen him move if I had blinked. 'I have no problem with you two getting to know each other in the old-fashioned way,' he told us, grinning. 'It's a Skyrim tradition, I believe, that you don't know a mortal until you've tested them in combat. But I'll be watching, I'm afraid. We don't want two young and promising members to kill each other before reaching adulthood, do we?'

He took a few steps backwards. 'Swords only, please. No unfair means of any variety. The first to disarm the other shall be proclaimed victor. Agreed?'

We both nodded.

'Very good.' Blade nodded slowly, placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me aside. 'Listen, before you begin,' he murmured, too quietly for the other boy to hear. 'Mercer Frey shows much promise, but he is overconfident. Too sure of himself. He expects little of us. Sereniel asked me to find a way to dent his arrogance, and you have a perfect opportunity. Prove to him that we are capable fighters as well as thieves here, and you may earn his respect. But do not humiliate him. You will merely anger him.'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

Blade patted my shoulder and stepped aside. 'Swords at the ready, please,' he announced, putting a long hiss on the S of 'please.'

Mercer raised his weapon, and I began studying him in the way that both Blade and Dralsi had taught me, weighing up his strengths and weaknesses, judging where his weak spots were, working out where to strike. He held his sword well- clearly he, too, had been taking lessons with the blade- but he stood too firmly. Blade was constantly telling me that since I was too small to hope that I could beat my opponents for strength, speed was what would see me through a battle. I had to be light on my feet, ready to duck and weave and lunge. Mercer was clearly my superior in strength, but when it came to swiftness of foot, I was fairly certain I had the advantage.

I was determined to win this battle. Blade was placing his trust in me. Now was the time to show him that I had learned from his many days of patient teaching.

'And… begin!' Blade barked the final word before leaping backwards to give us room.

I had expected Mercer to try and make the first move, as indeed he did, swiping towards my head with far more strength and accuracy than I would have expected of him. He was fast, but I noticed that he was still rooted firmly in his position. If I were to strike now, he might well not be able to move in time to dodge. I ducked under his blow and lashed out, aiming for his stomach. He saw it coming and pulled back, but not fast enough. The point of the wooden sword scored across his leather armour. If it had been a real blade, I would have drawn blood.

I saw Mercer blink in surprise as he realised that I had hit him, but his alarm lasted no longer than an instant. He raised his sword above his head and brought it down. Had I not already leaped backwards out of the way, it would have slammed down on my shoulder. As it was, the sword whistled through empty air. For a moment, he was unbalanced, and I took the opportunity to lunge towards his hand, my sword already twirling in the intricate grapple and twist that Blade had shown me earlier. It almost worked- my blade locked with his and wrenched it to the side- but just before his weapon slipped from his grasp, Mercer brought up his other hand and managed to knock my sword away. I drew back quickly, fearing a counter attack, but the other boy took a few steps backwards instead, regarding me closely, his greyish-green eyes narrowed into slits.

We began to circle each other, slowly, carefully, warily. I was aware of the eyes of the whole Cistern upon us, and I drew in a deep breath, determined to emerge triumphant. Mercer was a good fighter- strong and skilled- but there was little grace or precision behind his movements. I knew that I could win this.

But first, I had to break this uneasy lull in the fighting. I didn't want to be the first to make a move, for fear of exposing myself to him if he dodged before I could hit. No, I had to try and make him attack. The best way to do that would be to make him think he had an opportunity, that I was distracted, that he could strike without me retaliating in time. I breathed in and out slowly, readying myself. For a few more seconds, I kept my eyes locked onto Mercer's. Then, as I passed Blade, who was still standing with his sword out, watching us closely, I flicked my eyes to the side, meeting his gaze for a moment, hoping that it would look to Mercer as if my concentration had lapsed, and I was seeking guidance from me mentor.

It worked. I heard a sudden rustling noise behind me and knew that my adversary had taken advantage of my momentary distraction to strike. Before he could reach me, I was jumping to the side, and his sword clacked down on the stones. His side was exposed to me now, and I knew that had he been a bandit, this would have been the perfect moment for me to bury my blade in his chest. Instead, I drove my sword downwards, aiming for his hands, hoping that this time I would be able to dislodge his weapon from his grip before he realised what was happening. But to my surprise, his hand came up without warning, catching me full in the chest. There was far more strength behind the blow than I ever would have anticipated- enough to send me sprawling onto the floor. But some deep-buried instinct in the back of my mind ordered m to hold onto my sword. And so I held firm.

I hear Blade hiss in anxiety as I fell, but his and Dralsi's hours of teaching me had not been for nothing. As Mercer advanced towards me, I could almost hear Dralsi's voice shouting at me. _An enemy you think is beaten is the most dangerous one of all!_

A grin flickered over my face, and I steeled myself as Mercer came forwards. The moment he was within range, I kicked up towards him, slamming both feet into his chest. The Breton staggered back, gasping, the breath knocked out of him. I needed nothing more. I was on my feet in a heartbeat, sweeping my sword down onto his hand. The sound of the blow snapped through the silent Cistern, and I saw Mercer's grip on his sword loosen slightly. I t was the perfect opportunity. I flicked my blade beneath his and pulled it upwards, wrenching it from his grasp and sending it spinning away over the floor.

A deathly hush fell as the sound of it clattering over the stone faded away into silence. Mercer stared in shock from me, to his fallen weapon, to me again. I swallowed and took a step back, breathing hard.

Blade sheathed his sword. 'I believe we have a victor,' he announced, and the pride and admiration in his voice made my heart glow.

The Guild members erupted into cheers. I gazed around at them in wide-eyed astonishment, barely able to take in the fact that my friends, colleagues and siblings were roaring my name, yelling in delight for my victory. I glanced at Mercer, holding out my hand. 'Good fight,' I told him.

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease- he might well resent my beating him. But to my relief, there was a new respect in his eyes as he shook my hand. 'Thanks. You too.'

'Well done, both of you.' Blade stepped forwards, a wide smile on his face. 'It's good to know we have such promising young warriors here in the Guild.'

'Indeed it is. But I don't want this to become a regular occurrence. We're a family here.' Sereniel looked between the two of us, her green eyes stern but appraising. 'Fighting is for training purposes only, understand?'

We both nodded.

'All right then, everyone. Show's over. Back to work.' Sereniel clapped her hands, and the assembled Guild members jumped guiltily, seemed to remember that they had work to do, and scurried off in several different directions, leaving Mercer and I staring at each other.

For a few moments, there was silence.

'I like your fighting style,' Mercer told me suddenly. 'You do it very…' He frowned, as if searching for the right words. 'Very neatly. Kind of organised.'

'I'm a perfectionist,' I admitted. 'Even when I'm fighting.'

He laughed. 'You might have to teach me a few of those moves. How do you do that one you used at the end- the disarming one?'

I picked up his fallen sword and handed it to him 'Here, I'll show you. Blade was teaching me it only this morning. You need to keep a nice firm grip, and flick it across and up at the same time…'

The Guild members chatted, laughed, sang and wandered around us as the day wore on. Bit by bit, I showed him what I knew of the way of the blade, and he shared his own knowledge with me. And once we were done, we talked. I told him a little about my home and my family, and how I had left them behind. He told me about his own parents- wealthy noblemen, much like mine- who had died, leaving Mercer with a small fortune, but no remaining relatives. Like me, he'd inevitably found himself in Riften, where Elandine had found him. He, too, had known little of the Guild before his arrival.

'I'm still not sure whether I belong here,' he admitted. 'But I'm more than willing to give it a try.'

I smiled at him. 'I wasn't sure either, to begin with,' I told him. 'I thought I might never fit in. But now I know that this place is my home. And the others here are my family.'

Mercer frowned thoughtfully. 'Family,' he repeated. 'That'd be nice. I've not had one for too long.'

'Well, you've got one now,' I told him. I hesitated for a moment, and added, 'Brother.'

He returned my smile. 'Brother,' he affirmed.

And that was how I met the boy who would become my greatest friend.

That was how I met the warrior who would fight by my side in more battles than I could count.

That was how I met the man who would I would trust above anyone else.

That was how I met the brother who would one day end my life.

* * *

**This chapter was originally going to be different… very different. But it ended up going in a completely different direction, so here it is! Mercer has finally made an appearance- I hope you enjoyed meeting him as a child, it was interesting to write him. By the way, I know that Gallus didn't learn the Falmer language until he was an adult, but I decided to use some artistic license there. Well, thanks for reading, everyone!**


	16. Shattered

**Hello there, readers! Chapter Fifteen is up at last. Would have been quicker, but, not only did I have a whole load of work to do, I got the dreaded writer's block about halfway through. So I apologise in advance if the middle section seems a little rushed and strained.**

**A lot of this chaper is based on a single line of game dialogue that was said to me at one point during the Guild questline, and involves a lot of guesswork and artistic licence, so please bear that in mind as you read it.**

**Ok, enough from me. Over to you, Gallus...**

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

_1__st__ of Heartfire_

_Heartfire has begun, and that means that autumn is with us. The trees of the Rift always bear leaves of gold, so there is little change in the colour of our woodlands yet. But soon, I know, they will begin to fall from the trees, spiralling and dancing through the air, coating the ground in a blanket of red, orange, yellow and amber. And soon after that, the painted ground will turn white, as the snow falls, and the world is frozen in whiteness, and the very air we breathe is filled with frost…_

_But that time is not yet here, and for now I shall enjoy what is left of the sunlit days. The nights are drawing in, slowly but surely, and though that is good news for my Guild- more time to carry out our missions under cover of darkness- I wish it were not so. I love the sunlight. I love the way it shines through the golden leaves of the forest, dappling the ground in a thousand different shades of ochre and bright ginger and yellow, and charcoal grey and black where the sun does not reach. I love the feel of the warmth of the sun's rays on my back, and the sound of the birds singing in the treetops. None of that can happen in winter. No, as the season dies, I feel a part of myself die with it._

_Ah, no matter. There is plenty for me to be happy about, even with the turn of the seasons imminent. The Guild is flourishing, and the gold is pouring in, just like always. And today is Fjella's birthday. We threw a party of sorts for her- presents, food, mead and the like. Myself, I've never been a great fan of mead, but Blade gave me some Argonian Ale to try, and it was far nice than I'd expected. Mercer, on the other hand, got exceptionally drunk. Typical of him, really. I didn't expect any less. I think he's currently collapsed on his bed, out for the count. He'll have a splitting headache when he wakes up tomorrow, you mark my words._

_There's little else to report for today, really. Apart from one thing. I don't think anyone else noticed how eager Farmund seemed to make sure Fjella got his present. And it was a beautiful present, too – one of those silver circlets with the gemstones in that Azhanri's caravan sells. I expect a lot of Farmund's earnings from the last month went into buying that. It remains to be seen, of course, whether this is a 'serious thing,' as Mercer would call it, and whether Fjella noticed how Farmund was acting. To say the truth, myself, I think they'd make a nice couple._

_Well, I'm off duty for the rest of the day. Usually, when I have free afternoons, I spend them making trouble around the city with Mercer, but he's sound asleep, and there's no stirring him. So I'm at a loose end right now. I think I'll probably just wander around the city. Maybe I'll break into that jewellery stall, I don't think anyone's attacked it for a while. Or maybe I could take a look around Snow-Shod manor and see what I can pick up. It's surprising when I think about how well I know this city now… or maybe not so much. How long has it been since I first walked through the gates of Riften? Seven years? Eight? I'm fourteen now, and I came when I was six. So yes, eight years. Amazing, really. It seems like far longer, and yet it also seems that only yesterday Dralsi was leading me into the Cistern…_

_How far I've come. I've pretty much completed my training with Blade. There's little more he can teach me. And I'm no longer the kid member of the Guild. I know that most of them see me as an equal now. Of course, I have been their brother for many years, but now I believe they begin to see me as a colleague, not a child in training. Mercer, too, though I think they still consider him an apprentice. He is younger than me by a few months, I suppose, and I've been here longer than he has. And… I hope not to sound conceited, but I think he is, well, maybe a little les mature than me._

_Of course, Mercer is the greatest friend I have, despite that. Perhaps he does not quite match Henja, but… in truth, I do not think I can compare the two. For one thing, they are both so different to each other. And for a second, I was a different person when I played in the woods with Henja. I could never choose one of them over the other. I am just glad that I met them. So glad. Henja gave me hope, and Mercer gave me friendship. I will never be able to repay them for that._

_Well, I don't think there's anything more to write today. It's one of the Guild's more quiet evenings. Very little going on. Mercer's still asleep. Sereniel's stuffing the training dummies with arrows. Blade's out on a mission with Elandine and Sranys. Sabinus is sharing some mead with Ahsla. Farmund… is Farmund talking to Fjella? Yes, he is. Definitely talking to Fjella. I wonder, am I right to think that there is something between those two? Are they just former mentor and apprentice, or are they more than that?_

_Ah, it's not my place to question such things. It's their business, not mine. And it may not last, even if I am right. Very few relationships do, I think, in the Guild. And now, of course, I'm thinking of Dralsi, who had to leave use because of her love for another, and lost him so quickly after making that sacrifice for him…_

_Sometimes, there is little fairness in this world. But there is fairness too. There is happiness and laughter, hope and joy, friendship and light._

_You just need to know where to look._

* * *

The market was even busier than usual that day. It was hard to move without at least eight different people shoving me in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go. I had planned on carrying out a quick heist on one of the stalls, but instead I simply ducked and weaved through the heaving crowd, slipping my hands into the pockets of the passer-bys, quickly grabbing anything I liked the look of. With the crowd as thick as it was, it was impossible for me to be seen, let alone caught.

I gently tugged a purse from the pocket of a guard- I simply couldn't resist the temptation- and pocketed it with a light chuckle. I would have plenty of winnings to take back to Sereniel tonight. She'd almost certainly give me a generous cut, seeing as they were my earnings, and I might have enough to buy a potion to help Mercer get over the hangover he was certain to have the next day. I grinned and rubbed my hands together. Eight years of repeated law-breaking had not lessened the thrill I got whenever I stole. If anything, they had heightened it.

I patted my pocket, and turned to go back to the Flagon.

''Scuse me. You there, Imperial.'

I spun around instantly. For a moment, my heart clenched, as the thought flashed through my mind that I might have become careless and allowed myself to be seen stealing. But the young man who faced me showed no signs of anger or hostility. Quite on the contrary, there was a broad smile on his face as he regarded me, and something about his demeanour told me that he meant no harm. I relaxed, taking in his appearance. He was a Breton, his hair cut short, wearing red and black leather armour that was vaguely familiar. He carried a dagger, strapped to his side, but he made no move to reach for it.

I dipped my head slowly, keeping my eyes on his. 'Greetings,' I said warily.

'Nice to meet yer.' The Breton's accent was strange. I had never heard anything quite like it. Or had I? I frowned, suddenly aware that I had heard a similar voice before somewhere. And yet I could not recall who it had belonged to. 'You're with the Thieves Guild, right?'

'Would you have a problem with it if I was?' I asked him, raising one eyebrow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. 'Not at all, mate. I saw you, er, makin' use of your skills a moment ago, and do you see any guards runnin' over?'

I smiled. 'The guards are all in our pay anyway, actually. But yes. I'm with the Thieves Guild. The name's Gallus.' I kept my voice low, despite the fact I knew I could not be heard over the clamour of the market by anyone but the Breton.

'Good.' The man put his hands in his pockets, pulled them out again, shuffled his feet slightly, and finally spoke. 'I'm lookin' for Camille.'

I blinked, my brow creasing into a frown. 'Camille?'

The Breton dipped his head. 'I've been trackin' 'im down for months now,' he told me. 'An' I finally traced him to your Guild.'

'I'm sorry,' I told him uncomfortably. 'I don't know anyone called Camille.'

His brow furrowed. 'You sure? My sources are some of the best.'

I nodded. 'Positive. There's no Camille in my Guild, and to the best of my knowledge there never has been.'

The Breton gazed at me for a few moments. 'D'you think I could persuade you to take me to your base anyway?' he asked. 'I'd like a word with your leader, even if Camille ain't there after all. I swear, I don't mean any 'arm, to you or to any of your colleagues.'

I hesitated for a moment, undecided. There was no guarantee that this man could be trusted. What if he were an infiltrator, one of the Jarl's spies? I would never hear the end of it from the others if I were foolish enough to lead one of our enemies into our secret sanctuary. And yet… somehow, I knew that the Breton was telling the truth. Something about the way he spoke made me certain that he was not lying to me. I didn't have the slightest clue who he was talking about- I'd never heard the name Camille in my life- but my heart told me that I should grant the man's request.

I nodded slowly. 'All right,' I said. 'This way.'

He visibly relaxed, letting out a long breath that he had clearly been holding in. 'Cheers. I owe you one.'

I dipped my head awkwardly and led the way out of the marketplace, around the back of the Temple of Mara, into the graveyard. 'Could I ask you to look away for a moment?' I asked. 'I believe you when you say you're not an enemy to the Guild, but I'd rather not let you know how to access our home until I know that you can be trusted.'

'Sure. No problem.' The Breton turned his back obligingly, and I quickly pressed the button on the stone slab, making it shudder backwards, opening up the entrance.

'Come on,' I called. 'I'll take you to meet our Guildmaster.'

He followed me through the trapdoor and down the ladder. I was still not entirely sure that I was doing the right thing- I had no idea who this man was- but nobody could complain if I took him straight to Sereniel, and made sure he didn't know how to get into the Cistern by himself. I'd let Sereniel and Blade be the judges of whether or not he was telling the truth. And if he was, we could help him in his search for this Camille person.

The Breton looked around appreciatively as we emerged into the Cistern. 'Blimey,' he said, his eyes round. 'Never thought it'd be so big.'

I couldn't help but grin. 'Most people say that, the first time,' I told him. 'Follow me. Sereniel should be just over here.'

She was still at the archery targets, and it didn't surprise me in the slightest to see that the dummies were so riddled with her red-feathered arrows that they were almost invisible. The Bosmer was quietly assessing her accomplishments as we approached. 'Nineteen, twenty, twenty one. Which makes a total of twenty one fatal shots. Sixteen of the remainder have the potential for serious injury, and of those, eight would probably have rendered the target unable to fight, at least temporarily. Two flesh wounds, one miss. Not bad. Not bad at all. An improvement on yesterday, certainly.'

'Sereniel,' I called, stepped forwards.

The Guildmaster turned, her eyebrows raised inquisitively. 'Need something, Gallus?'

'No. But…' I gestured to the Breton. 'I think he needs to speak to you.'

'Ah.' The Wood Elf woman nodded, her eyes sweeping over the stranger. 'Have you brought a message from the Brotherhood?'

_The Brotherhood? _I thought in confusion, taking a second look at the Breton's black and red leather armour, with a small, hand shaped symbol stamped on the chest. 'You're from the Dark Brotherhood?' I blurted out without thinking, my eyes widening. I had heard of the shadowy, secretive group of assassins- who hadn't?- but never before had I met one of them. I was well aware that the Guild and the Brotherhood had an uneasy, tentative friendship, but I'd never in all my time in the Guild see one of them come into the Cistern. I stared at the Breton in sudden wonder.

Sereniel shot me a warning glance, but the Breton didn't seem worried. 'That's right, kid. Dark Brotherhood. And yeah, I've brought a message for one of your members.'

'Care to tell me what it is?'

The man hesitated. 'It's kind of a little complicated.'

'I daresay.' The Bosmer women's eyes narrowed. 'Very well, who are you looking for?'

'His name's Camille.' The Breton chewed on his lip for a moment. 'The kid says he doesn't know anyone who goes by that name.'

Sereniel shrugged apologetically. 'Sorry, friend. I can't help you there. I've never known a Camille in all my years- and believe me, I've seen a great many years.'

The man from the Dark Brotherhood clasped his hands together uneasily. 'Well then, could I take a snoop around? See if I can find 'im? I wouldn't be surprised if he'd changed his name.'

'Describe him to me,' Sereniel suggested. 'I'll soon tell you whether there's anyone like him down here.'

The Breton nodded. 'He looks a bit like me, but he's still got all his 'air,' he began, a wry grin flickering over his face. 'About the same 'eight, too. 'He's pretty lightly built and-'

'Delvin?'

The voice was quiet, the word spoken so softly it could barely be heard. But there was a world of shock and amazement and apprehension behind it- so much emotion that I felt my skin prickling. And then it began to prickle even more, because I knew that voice. I knew its owner. And suddenly, I realised exactly where it was that I had heard that accent before.

Sereniel, the Breton and I spun around in the same moment. Three pairs of eyes widened as we took in the man who had spoken the word.

A smile spread across the stranger's face. 'Camille,' he said, pure joy glowing from the sound of the name.

'Delvin,' Silent whispered, taking a step towards him.

I glanced at Sereniel. She shrugged slightly, shaking her head, clearly just as bemused as I was.

For a moment, the two Bretons stared at each other. Then suddenly Silent ran forwards and embraced the man from the Brotherhood, his eyes wide in astonishment, blank disbelief on his face.

'Found you at last,' the stranger grinned.

Silent stepped back, a sudden flash of fear in his eyes. 'Do they know where I am?'

The Dark Brotherhood member shook his head. 'Nah, they're clueless. I tracked you down myself. You're a hard man to find, Cam. And you don't need to worry about 'em finding you any more.'

Silent's eyes stretched wide open, an expression of disbelieving joy crossing his face. 'You've proved it?'

'I've proved it.'

'I hate to break up what appears to be a very touching reunion,' Sereniel interrupted, stepping forwards. 'But I would appreciate an explanation, please. Silent, do you know this man?'

Silent looked between the Breton and the Wood Elf, his eyes shining with a mixture of tension and delight. 'Delvin's my cousin,' he said softly.

'And your brother,' Delvin added, winking at him.

Silent did something I had never seen or heard him do in the entire time I had known him. He laughed. 'Of course.'

'Stop. Stop already, please.' Sereniel held up her hands. 'Silent, you've known me long enough to understand that I have an intense dislike of being confused. If you could kindly find a way to explain the current situation to me without making me want to drive a dagger through my heart out of pure bewilderment, I would be very much obliged to you.'

Silent and the stranger- Delvin? Was that his name?- glanced at each other. Then Silent stepped forwards, and for the first time in my life, I heard words flow from him as easily and naturally as they came from anyone else.

'Delvin's the son of my father's brother,' he announced. 'We joined the Dark Brotherhood many years ago. We're brothers by our oaths to each other, but cousins by blood.'

I shook my head in pure amazement. Sereniel stared at the Breton for a moment, her eyes bulging. 'I'm confused already, but carry on, by all means.'

I was beginning to wonder whether they remembered that I was there. I knew that I should probably go, but something made me stay. Probably my own childish curiosity.

'My real name… well, the name my parents gave me, at least, is Camille.' Silent swallowed. 'I 'ad to leave that name behind a long time ago.'

Suddenly, he was speaking in exactly the same way as Delvin- dropping the letter H almost every time it appeared, and slurring his words together. I had heard flashes of this way of speaking in the few times he had spoken up, but his voice had always been so husky, so quiet, so… sorrowful, and the accent had been muted and supressed, barely even there at all. Perhaps he had been trying to hide it, trying to shy away from who he really was. Now his voice was fresh and clear, and there was a new energy behind the words. It took me a moment to find a name for the emotion sparkling in his eyes. And then I realised that it was hope.

'Listen,' I said quietly, stepping forwards. 'Would you like me to… go somewhere else?' I had intruded on this long enough.

Sereniel nodded slowly. 'I think that might be best, Gallus.'

I nodded, unsure of what to say. 'I'll go… try and wake up Mercer,' I said awkwardly, and hurriedly backed away.

I wasn't certain what I had just witnessed. What I did know was that the past had returned to haunt my Guild brother. But whether this was for better or for worse, I simply could not say.

* * *

'Ten of Dragons.'

I grinned, slamming my card down on the table. 'King of Elves.'

Mercer threw his hand of cards down with a disgusted snort. 'How are you so good at this game?'

'Practice and luck, my friend, practice and luck,' I told him, sweeping up the cards and adding them to my own rapidly-growing pack. 'If you're going to be a Guild member, you need to know how to win a card game.'

My Guild brother's eyes narrowed. 'Eight of Beastfolk,' he announced, slapping it down. 'How'd you like that?'

'Nine of Humans,' I answered casually, flicking the card down beside his.

'I give up,' Mercer said hopelessly, handing over the cards. 'You've been taking lessons from Farmund, haven't you?'

'Ace of Elves. And yes, of course I have. You should have learned long ago that being skilled with a pack of cards is as valuable as being skilled with a lockpick.'

'True, but it's not half as impressive, is it? Two of Dragons.'

I shrugged. 'No, but it's just as useful. Four of Beastfolk. Haven't you heard Sranys's story about how he kept an entire bandit gang distracted with a game of cards while Fjella broke into their camp and robbed everything they had?'

'That's it, I'm out.' Mercer shoved his final card across the table to me. 'You win.'

'Nicely played,' I complimented him. 'You might have won, you know, if you'd played the Ace of Humans in that fourth hand, instead of the Queen.'

Mercer held up his hands. 'Stop right there, Gallus. I'm not having you point out my every mistake. You're too damned good at this already.'

He leaned back against his chair. 'So, what do you think about all this?'

I frowned. 'About what?' I asked, thought I was fairly certain I already knew the answer.

'What do you think? Silent and that Dark Brotherhood guy.'

'You mean Delvin?' I asked, raising my eyebrows. 'I don't know. We still don't know the full story yet. I don't think we can decide whether this is a good thing or a bad thing until we do.'

Mercer took a sip of the potion that I'd bought for him to get rid of his headache. 'I guess we'll just have to wait and see,' he said. 'You know, I never would have thought that Silent was the type to be in the Dark Brotherhood. He doesn't seem to be a natural assassin.'

I grinned. 'And do I seem to be a natural thief?'

'Good point.' Mercer grinned.

''Scuse me, boys. Can we 'ave a word?'

I glanced up to see Delvin standing beside us, carrying a mug of mead. Silent was standing next to him, Whisper at his heels. I nodded, a little puzzled. 'Of course. Take a seat.'

The two Bretons pulled up chairs, and the husky slumped onto the floor at their feet. 'It's Gallus, right?' Delvin asked, looking at me. I nodded, and he went on. 'First, I'd just like to thank you for brinin' me here. I appreciate it.'

'Don't mention it,' I told him. 'I'm glad to have been of help.'

Silent gave me one of his small, fleeting smiles. 'I'll always be grateful, Gallus. And since you've been a loyal friend to me over the years, I think it's about time I told you the truth.' He sighed softly. 'I've already told most of the others, an' I don't think it went down well.'

Delvin nudged him. 'Go on, Cam. Just tell 'em.'

For a few moments, Silent lived up to his alias. Then he raised his head and began to speak, in a voice filled with sorrow and remorse.

'We were taken into the Brotherhood when we were young. Very young. About the same age as you were, Gallus, when you first came to the Guild. I won't go through all the ins and outs of how we ended up there, I'll just say that we were there. And we were members of the Family, and we served Sithis with everything we had.'

'Then why'd you leave?' Mercer's expressions was challenging, suspicious.

'Out of necessity, and not out of choice,' Silent replied, stroking Whisper's head. 'We were betrayed. Kinda ironic, really. The backstabbers got backstabbed.'

Delvin took a long sip of his mead. 'We won't bore you both with the details, but one of our brothers was an Altmer called Velandor. 'E was a damn good mage, and an even better killer. No mercy, no fear, no guilt. One of the best in the family. Problem was, 'e was ambitious. Ambitious in the wrong way.'

I shot an uneasy glance at Mercer. I didn't like where this was going.

'We thought we had everything,' Silent said bitterly. 'Life was good. Nobody thought that Velandor would betray us. 'He just wasn't the type. Loyal and all that. Or so we thought.'

'To make a long story short, he killed our leader and made it look like Camille did it,' Delvin growled, his hands curling into fists. 'I knew he was innocent, of course, but I didn't 'ave a clue who the real murderer was. Cam got chased out of the Brotherhood. Would've been killed if 'e didn't have that dog helpin'.'

Silent smiled, looking at Whisper with pride in his eyes. 'Let the teeth marks on Festus's leg stand as a lasting tribute to her courage.'

We all laughed, even Mercer, who usually never managed anything beyond a vaguely amused snort.

'So I wandered for some time and eventually I wound up with the Guild,' Silent continued. 'It wasn't too far away from the Brotherhood- keepin' to the shadows and all that- so I was all right. I knew that the Guild was linked to the Family, but I was hopin' that it'd make them think I wouldn't risk hiding there. So I stayed hidden. And I stayed silent, 'cause I couldn't stop thinkin' about the Family I'd left behind, and I just could summon up the spirit to speak. Not unless I had to.'

So Blade had been right, I thought. He had been dwelling on the hardships of his past. No wonder he had been so quiet, with so much grief and shame behind him.

'But you're here now. How'd you find him? Why'd you risk the Brotherhood finding him?' Mercer looked at Delvin, who shrugged.

'Well, I hadn't been treated too good since Cam left. Guess they all thought I was in league with him. Still, I kept sniffin' around to try and see if I could work out who it really was killed our leader. Velandor- he took over leadership- must've worked out what I was doin' an' decided it would be easier for everyone if I was put outta the way. So 'e tried to sneak up on me and put a dagger in my neck. Would've managed it, if that vampire kid hadn't walked in just in time and yelled. There was a fight, and it ended with Vel falling into the pit where Gabriella keeps that pet Frostbite Spider.'

I winced, and Mercer pulled a face.

'He deserved it,' Silent growled. 'He destroyed my life. Being eaten by a giant spider was getting off lightly.'

Delvin placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder. 'Yeah, but now he's dead. You can come back.'

'Come back?' Mercer echoed.

The two Brotherhood members glanced uneasily at each other.

'You're going to just leave?' Mercer continued incredulously. 'Don't you think we've lost enough people already?'

'It's his choice to make, Mercer,' I told him gently, though inside my heart was twisting. I had come to terms with the fact that in the Guild, people would come and go, but having known Silent so long, I felt as if some part of my life was being ripped away.

But I understood if he was leaving. He had never been truly at home among us. Since Delvin's arrival, the quiet Breton had been given new life. He was Silent the Thieves Guild member no longer. Camille, an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, had suddenly and unexpectedly taken the place of the man I had worked with. In a way, my brother had already left us. He had a different family to return to.

The thought struck me like a blow from a sword. A new family.

The Dark Brotherhood.

'Delvin,' I asked, barely daring to speak.

He glanced up. 'What can I do for yer?'

'Were you with the Brotherhood ten years ago?'

He frowned, clearly confused by the question, but nodded. 'Sure I was. Nothin' but a kid, but with 'em.'

I drew in a deep breath. 'Do you remember a contract about that time, on an Imperial woman called Perdita Desidenius?'

Mercer's eyes narrowed, and he drew in a sharp breath. Silent looked at me, startled. 'Desidenius? Isn't that-'

I held up a hand, shaking my head, and the Breton fell silent. Delvin's frown grew deeper. 'Perdita Desidenius?' he repeated. 'Crikey, that's goin' back quite a way, ain't it?'

'Could you please try to remember?' I begged, my heart thumping against my chest. 'It's important.'

Delvin pursed his lips and stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Desidenius,' he murmured. 'Yeah, that rings a bell. I think I remember. Rich lady, wife of some sort of businessman or something like that.'

'A scholar,' I said quietly. 'Advisor to the Jarl of Falkreath.'

'Falkreath!' Delvin slammed his down hand on the table. 'It's comin' back to me now. It was Velandor who 'andled it, if I remember rightly. 'He said it was one of the easiest jobs 'e ever did. Lured her into a barn and stabbed her, I think. I don't recall any details, it was a bloody long time ago, and it was just another contract. Nothin' special about it, really. No need to remember it. I think the only thing that struck me about it was that Velandor came back sneering about how she begged him to show some mercy, 'cause she'd got three kids to look after. Think that's the only reason it stuck in my mind. I mean, sure, I'm an assassin, but even a killer's gotta feel a bit of remorse when three kids get their mother done in, right? And then of course, there was the whole business of who asked for the contract. I mean, that was just messed up.'

For a few seconds, I was silent, hardly able to process the information I had just been given. My mother had been killed by the same person that had betrayed Delvin and Silent. And her last words had been a plea for mercy. A plea made partly for my sake. And the person who asked for the contract… after all these years, after all this time, after all the doubt, I was finally about to know.

But did I want to know?

Yes. I had to know. I had to.

'Messed up?' I repeated, finally regaining the power of speech. 'Why? Who asked for her death?'

Delvin stared at me. Silent and Mercer exchanged uneasy glances.

'Please,' I whispered. 'I have to know.'

The Breton scratched his ear uneasily. 'Far as I remember… it was 'er own husband.'

There are no real words to describe what I felt in that moment. It was as if the ground had fallen away beneath my feet. It was as if someone had taken a warhammer and slammed it into my chest, smashing my bones into splinters. It was as if everything I knew had suddenly been revealed as a lie, and I was floundering helplessly in darkness in search of the truth.

_Her own husband._

My father.

Time seemed to slow. The world faded away. I stared at Delvin, trying to speak but unable to remember how to form words, trying to move but finding it impossible to stir my limbs. My heart was racing so fast it was almost painful, and I could hear my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

My father. My own father.

My own Gods-damned father.

No. It couldn't be true. He would never have done it. He loved her. It was a lie, it had to be. He would never have killed my mother-

'You're sure?' I rasped, my voice catching in the back of my throat as if reluctant to be used. I was suddenly aware that I had risen to my feet. 'You're certain?'

Delvin nodded wordlessly. 'You okay, mate?'

'Gallus?' Mercer's voice, filled with concern and fear, jolted me back into reality. It was like running into a wall. My legs gave way beneath me, and I collapsed onto my chair.

_My father. My father. My father, my father, my own father-_

'Why?' The word was so hoarse I could barely recognise my own voice.

Delvin shook his head. 'I'm sorry. I don't know. I was 'alf your age…' He looked at me, confusion and concern in his eyes.

I gazed at the floor, half expecting it to crumble into pieces and fall away, just like the rest of reality. 'She… Perdita Desidenius was my mother,' I choked out. 'I was the youngest of those three children she left behind.'

There was a short silence, broken only by my ragged, breathless sobs. Mercer shook his head slowly, swearing under his breath. Delvin swallowed, looking at his mead mug as he clearly tried to search for words.

'Give us a moment, you two,' Mercer growled, and Delvin and Silent, to their credit, didn't say a word of protest, but simply nodded, snatched up their mead, and scurried away, Whisper bounding after them.

Mercer purseed his lips and put a hand on my shoulder. 'You told me your father was an entity from Oblivion, and now I believe you,' he muttered.

'How could he do it?' I whispered. 'Why would he do it?'

My friend simply shook his head. 'I don't know, Gallus. I don't know.'

'But he loved her,' I whispered. 'I know he did. It was because she died that he began hating me. Why would he want to have her killed?'

Mercer said nothing.

I felt hatred build up inside me- such strong hate that it was as if someone had lit a fire within my heart. My father had made my life into Oblivion on Nirn. I had always loathed him, never thought of his as my own flesh and blood. But I had never imagined that even he could ever do something like this.

'Gallus, I can't answer any of that,' Mercer told me, his voice low. 'But what I can tell you is this. I don't know why you should care. That man was never your father. Sure, you carry his blood, but that's not what makes a father. You've left your family behind, and as far as I'm concerned it's good riddance. I know it's nothing to do with me, but that's what I think. You got a new family now, and it's a million times better than the old one. So just move on.'

Strangely, his bluntly-spoken words comforted me. He was right. A true father was someone who loved you and cared for you, who treasured you and was always there for you when you needed him. My father had never done any of that. I was not his son, and I never would be. I had to forget the past now. My old family were a distant memory. I had a family now who valued me and accepted me as I was. What more could I ask for?

I looked up at my greatest friend, blinked the tears from my eyes, and smiled. It was time to move on.

'You're right,' I told him, picking up the pack of cards. 'Care for another game?'

* * *

_2__nd__ of Heartfire_

_My father killed my mother. It might have been this stranger, this Velandor, who took her life, but it was my father who caused it to be done. And the worst of it is, I believed Delvin when he told me. I never doubted it for a second. How can I have so much hatred for the man who helped bring me into the world?_

_I don't need to answer that question. Because he was never my father, not truly. _

_I wish now that I had known my mother better. Perhaps if she had lived longer, if__ I had known her when I was older, I might understand now why my father would want her killed. Maybe there was some hidden hatred between them that I never saw. But if there was, why did Prosperus or Marcella not see it? Marcella always, always told me that our parents loved each other. Why would he do it? Why?_

_Perhaps I will never know. It is better for me to leave the past behind now. It is far less painful for me to simply forget it all, as much as I can. Mercer is right. I have a new home, a new family, and a new future. A new life. The present is what matters now._

_What was it that Dralsi always told me? 'Do not be afraid if shadows cloud your path. For you alone can make a light to banish them.' Well, I intend to do exactly that. My path is dark now, but if I keep looking ahead, I will persevere. _

_Well, that's not the most important thing to write about at the moment. To me, of course, it is more important than anything else, but the Guild has a far more pressing issue to deal with. I never honestly expected Silent to remain with us now that he can return to his Brotherhood. They were his first family, and maybe with them he can be who he cannot be here. When I look at him now, I find myself thinking, who is he? Silent, or Camille? They way he laughs and speaks and smiles now makes me certain of the answer. Silent is dead. Camille has been reborn. And it was Silent, not Camille, who was my Guild brother._

_Of course, I am happy for him. Delvin's arrival has given him back his life. He announced this morning to everyone that he is returning to the Dark Brotherhood, and I don't think anyone was surprised. Of course, we were all upset, even Fjella. He has been a loyal brother and friend to us all. But he must follow his heart. And at least there won't be any more fights between Whisper and Manji anymore. _

_But it's not all bad news. Delvin is staying with us. I think he is too angry at the way the Brotherhood treated him and Silent to ever feel as if he belongs with them again. And we here in the Guild, he says, could be 'an all right bunch.' So we're losing Silent, but gaining Delvin, and I think it's a fair exchange. Delvin- being a former assassin- can walk as silently as a cat, and he's got plenty of skill with a lockpick. It won't take long to transform him into a fully-fledged thief._

_There's a pain within me today that I can't cure. Perhaps it will never truly be gone. But I know that I can carry on. Yesterday, my life changed forever. But today, I am determined to stay strong. And tomorrow… well, I'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow will bring._

_Delvin's adjusting the straps on his new Guild armour. Farmund and Fjella are saying goodbye to Silent. Incredibly, Manji and Whisper are sniffing each other in a somewhat civilised way. Mercer's playing cards against himself, probably in the hope that he might be able to win our next game if he practices enough. Sereniel and Blade are talking at her desk. Sabinus and Ahsla are sword training together. Elandine is enchanting Sranys's bow. Even if my world has been shattered, and we have lost a brother and gained another, nothing changes here in the secret city. The Guild carries on, just as it always does. Life is simple. Life goes on._

_And… there is no denying it. No matter what hardships I must face, life is good._

* * *

**Warning: long author's note coming up.**

**Well… there we are, light shed on a few mysteries. I hope you liked Silent's backstory. I should explain that after Mercer's betrayal, Delvin said to my character, 'Stabbed in the back. It's like the Dark Brotherhood all over again.' At the time, I hadn't even met the Dark Brotherhood, let alone reached the betrayal part. So I naturally assumed that he had once been in the Brotherhood and had been somehow betrayed. It might not have been Bethesda's intention, but that was how I took it. I'd always planned for Delvin and Silent to be related, so that was how things turned out. I'm sorry if their story is a little vague. I feel like it's rushed, but like I said, I got writer's block, so… *sigh* I had to leave it how it was. Please excuse all and any lore mistakes- I have a feeling there are loads, but I'm really exhausted and my brain has turned to mush, so please point them out for me so I can sort them later when I'm a bit more motivated. :(**

**Also, having Delvin and Silent as former Dark Brotherhood members gave me a chance to reveal the truth about the death of Gallus's mother. Surprised, anyone? So was I, actually, when I thought that up. Never thought I could create THAT evil a character… The reasons will be explained, please wait until Book Three! **

**Since Delvin's clearly no spring chicken when you meet him in the game, I guess it works for him to be a young adult here. I don't know, it's hard to age anyone when the game is so vague about how old everyone is. I think Bretons do live a little longer than average humans, though, because of their elven blood… then again, I could be wrong. Ah, well. I try my best. I know he has some relatives or something in Solstheim, but I've not got that far with Dragonborn yet, sorry.**

**Oh, and the card game… don't ask me what they're playing. And yes, I gave the suits different names, I felt they wouldn't have spades and diamonds and so on in Tamriel. That was just a little thing I included to give Gallus and Mercer something to do.**

**A few more old friends will be introduced during the next few chapters, to make up for the rapid depletion in the numbers of Guild members. I'll try to write the next one quickly, though my life has been hectic recently, and it will take far longer than I'd like. Ah, well, thanks for reading, everyone. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	17. Heartbreak

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

We moved like living shadows through the dark, deserted streets, so swiftly and smoothly that we were barely visible. The moonlight dappled the ground all around us with bright pools of silvery white and watery red- splashes of dazzling light that we did all we could to avoid. Our breath froze in the air to rise in shimmering clouds up to the jet black sky as we darted down gloomy alleyways and across bridges, keeping to the welcome darkness in order to stay out of sight of the few citizens that were awake, and the patrolling guards. Even if we were doing no wrong this night, being seen and questioned was something we could not afford now. I could hear my breath coming in short, fast, frightened gasps as I followed my Guild brother through the city gates and out into the frozen night.

The wind was in the trees, stirring their branches and rushing around their leaves, and the ground was frozen stiff beneath our feet. The short sprint to the stables could not have been more than a few metres, but it seemed to me to be a million miles. And though it took only a few breathless, hasty minutes to locate our horses in the dark, rouse them, drag them out of their stables and mount them, it was more like an eternity. But finally, our numb fingers managed to fit their saddles in place and attach all their bridle straps in the right places, and we were urging our mounts out onto the road, driving them forwards into the darkness.

Neither of us spoke for some time as we raced through the forest, our horses' hooves pounding on the cobbles. I knew that neither of us wanted to speak, that neither of us had anything to say that was worth listening to. There was only one thought in our minds, and both of us knew it. There was no need to speak.

But finally, as the faint golden glow of the lights of the city vanished behind the whispering trees, my companion twisted around in his saddle. 'Do you know the way to Shor's Stone?' Sranys called back to me, his face pale, drawn and tense.

'Only vaguely,' I shouted truthfully in reply, ducking as I did so to avoid a low hanging branch. I had been there a few times, and I knew that if I had to I would eventually be able to find my way there. But eventually was not good enough. Not fast enough. We had to be there before it was too late.

'Then stay behind me,' the Dark Elf ordered, in a voice filled with tension. 'I'll lead the way. You keep an eye out for danger. We can't afford to stop for a moment.'

I shivered, and not only because of the biting, icy wind. If we were attached – and on this road, in the dead of night, it was highly likely that wolves or bears or bandits might think us easy prey – we would not be able to defend ourselves. There was no time to fight. It could be fatal if we wasted a single second. If we were ambushed, we would have no choice but to keep going, and hope and pray that the Gods were kind.

I reached down and patted my steed's gleaming black neck, whispering soft words of encouragement into her ear. She snorted in response and galloped on, her eyes bright with excitement and determination. I knew I could count on her to get us to Shor's Stone and back on time. She had been a gift from my Guild siblings on my sixteenth birthday, and I could not have wanted a better present. Ebony was young, fast, striking and strong. Her name suited her well – she was tough enough, precious enough and beautiful enough to deserve it.

But I knew in my heart that no matter how swiftly Ebony ran, it might not be fast enough. Everything was in the hands of the Divines now. If they took pity on us, we would make it. If they did not, then by the time we returned to our family, it might already be too late.

I shook the thought from my mind. We would not be late. Sereniel and Blade had trusted Sranys and I to do this, and I would rather die than let them down. To fail now would be unthinkable and unforgivable. To fail now would be to condemn myself to living with the knowledge of what I had done- or what I had not done- for the rest of my life. To fail now might well to be to kill one of my sisters. And I would far rather die than allow one of the members of my adopted family to come to harm because I was unable to stop it.

'We're almost there!' Sranys's words sent hope shooting through me, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. Looking up and ahead, I began to see the lights of the village gradually appearing through the dark trunks of the trees. We had nearly arrived at our destination. And surely- _surely- _nothing bad could have happened in the time it had taken us to get here.

We dismounted at the entrance to the village. Sranys stayed behind to hold the reins of the horses, to save tying them up and then untying them again when the time came for us to leave. I left him there and dashed along the main street, my eyes desperately seeking the right house. I knew where it was, but I despaired of ever being able to find it in this gloom. My gaze flickered over doorway after doorway, and finally, I found it. So small that only someone looking for it would ever see it. A symbol carved into the doorframe of one of the houses. A diamond, each of its outermost points covered by a circle.

A shaky gasp of relief escaped me, and within seconds I was hammering on the door with all of my strength. The sound echoed like a bear's roar through the silent night, and I shifted from foot to foot as I waited for a response. It seemed to take an age, a hundred ages, before the door finally creaked open. A figure appeared in front of me, and a familiar pair of crimson eyes glowed out at me from the gloom.

'Gallus?' Her voice was filled with confusion, and woolly from tiredness.

'Dralsi,' I gasped, barely able to get the words out in my relief. 'We need your help.'

Her expression changed from perplexity to apprehension within a single instant. 'Is it-'

'It's Ahsla,' I interrupted, swallowing as if trying to force back my fear.

She nodded instantly, her face grim. 'I'm coming. Give me a moment to get ready.'

She vanished inside the house, and I heard her murmur. 'It's all right, Karliah, he's my friend. Go back to bed,' before the door closed. I stood shivering outside the house, casting anxious glances back in the direction of Riften every few seconds, my fingers so frozen I could barely feel them. _Please hurry, _I begged my former mentor in my mind. _You have to be quick. She needs your help._

Dralsi emerged at last, clad in the dark leather of her worn Guild armour, and carrying a bag that clinked as she moved it. I guess that it was full of potions. She held up a hand for me to wait and disappeared around the side of the house, emerging a few minutes later with her smoky black stallion, Dusk, following behind her. 'Lead the way. Quickly,' the Dunmer woman told me, every word laden with anxiety.

I led her along the streets, to where Sranys was waiting with Ebony and his own mare, Narsis. He gave Dralsi a brief nod as she neared him. 'Dralsi. Good to see you again,' he told he, with a weak smile.

'And, you Sranys.' My teacher dipped her head to him as she swung herself up into Dusk's saddle. 'Let's get moving. You two can explain on the way; there's no time to stand around talking.'

We spurred our horses into motion. Dralsi took the lead, her scarlet eyes narrowed and her teeth clenched. I knew that she and Ahsla had been the closest of friends when they had both been in the Guild, sharing a bond very much like the one I had with Mercer. I thought about what it might be like to have him die, to have my best friend stolen away from me for a second time, and shuddered. I didn't want to imagine what must be going on in Dralsi's head.

'So. What's going on? I take it there's a problem.' The Dark Elf woman's voice was taut, and I heard it shaking slightly.

'We're not sure what exactly is the matter.' Sranys shrugged slightly. 'Elandine was taking care of it, and suddenly she marched into the Flagon and asked someone to go and fetch you. She said she needed your help.'

Dralsi swore softly in her own language. 'Elandine's never been the best at Restoration. It's Illusion she works with. The Guild needs a resident healer. I shouldn't have left.'

'That's ridiculous,' Sranys told her firmly. 'Of course you had to leave. Your family needed you.'

'How is your daughter?' I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a slightly brighter direction.

My mentor let out a sigh. 'Karliah? She's well. She's becoming quite the archer and alchemist. But she's not happy with me.'

I frowned. 'Why's that?'

She shot the swiftest of looks at Sranys, and gave me an unreadable look. 'It's a long story.'

I understood her unspoken message. If she was reluctant to speak about it in front of my Guild brother, it must be to do with something only Dralsi and I knew, something that could not be spoken of in another's presence. It could only be about the Nightingales.

But this wasn't the time to speak about such things. There was a far more pressing manner waiting for us back in Riften. I forced all other thoughts out of my mind, and concentrated only on riding as fast as it was in my power to ride. I was only dimly aware of Narsis and Dusk thundering along on either side of me. All I could think about was the fact that one of my Guild sisters had her life hanging in her balance. And though I knew I had done all I could, that I had no further control over whether Ahsla lived or died now that I had found Dralsi and asked her to help, I still felt that I had to return as fast as I could.

If the journey to Shor's Stone had seemed to take a thousand years, the return journey was the exact opposite. It felt like mere seconds before our steeds were clattering over the cobbles towards the stables. Sranys leapt from Narsis's back with an agile twist and nodded to Dralsi. 'You two go on ahead. I'll put the horses in the stables. You just get to Ahsla quickly.'

Dralsi nodded, her face set grimly, and dashed away. I murmured my thanks to Sranys and sprinted after her. A few guards called after us suspiciously, but soon stopped when they recognised our Thieves Guild armour. I glanced up at the position of the moons as we ran through the streets. Nearly midnight. I cursed under my breath and mentally kicked myself for not checking the time when we left. Now I had no idea how much time had passed since our departure.

My former teacher pressed the button to activate the secret entrance, and disappeared into the Cistern. I hesitated for a moment, before turning around and running back to the marketplace, in order to go down to the water's edge and enter my home through the Ratway entrance. The Cistern was temporarily out of bounds for now. Elandine had moved Ahsla in there to give her as much peace and quiet as was possible.

I wasn't surprised to find my fellow Guild members sitting in deathly silence when I arrived. A few of them glances up at me as I entered, and I saw relief cross their faces. If I was here, then it meant Dralsi was here, and that made the danger a little less. But I knew that we may not have been in time. At least nobody was standing up to tell me to my face that I had been too late.

I scanned the room for Mercer, but to my confusion, he wasn't there. I hurried over the walkway around the pool and ran over to take a seat beside Sabinus, who was sitting on a crate and worriedly clasping and unclasping his hands. 'How is she?'

The Imperial shrugged, his face impassive but his eyes betraying his nerves. 'We're not sure. Not yet, anyway.' He looked at me sharply. 'Have you brought Dralsi with you?'

I nodded. 'She went in through the other entrance.'

Sabinus breathed a long sigh of relief. 'Then she stands more of a chance.'

I took another look around the Cistern. 'Sabinus, where's Mercer?'

My Guild brother jerked his head towards the door. 'Elandine sent him out to get some sort of herb or potion or something like that.'

I frowned in confusion. 'Won't all the shops be closed at this hour?'

Sabinus tried to smile. 'Why would he need to buy it?'

I grinned. 'Good point.'

Silence fell again.

'What if she dies?' Sabinus whispered the words. I found myself suddenly relieved that someone had at last had the courage to voice what we were all thinking.

'She won't die,' I assured him. 'Ahsla's strong.'

'But some people do die. Some of them are just as strong as Ahsla. Why not her as well?'

I shook my head, unsure of whether I was trying to reassure Sabinus or myself. 'Elandine and Dralsi will take care of her,' I said firmly. 'They know what they're doing. Plenty of women go through this every day. And yes, some die, but most don't. There's no reason for Ahsla to.'

'But if you had to go and fetch Dralsi, surely it must be worse than usual?' Sabinus insisted.

I couldn't come up with a reply, so I merely shrugged.

Nobody seemed to feel like chatting and swapping stories, as we usually did. We simply sat around, gazing into our drinks, trying to ignore the cries that came from the Cistern. Mercer returned and gave the potions he'd been sent to fetch to Elandine, before slumping down in the chair next to me. We played a few games of cards, and I was so distracted and nervous that he actually one two of them. Sranys and Farmund started playing after a few rounds, and they, too, were nowhere near their usual standard. Eventually Fjella joined in, and quickly won every game. Sabinus watched us, but didn't seem to be able to summon the energy to participate. Blade, who was repeatedly stabbing a dummy, was the only one doing anything active. Sereniel sat observing us, shooting frequent glances towards the door of the Cistern. Every so often she would rise to her feet and move towards the door, then hesitate, shake her head and sit down.

I cannot say how long it was before the door to the Flagon finally creaked open. Everyone glanced up in unison, and several of us rose to our feet. Dralsi entered, her face flushed from exhaustion. Quietly, she walked forwards until she stood in front of us. I felt my heart hammering against my chest. _Please, Divines, _I begged silently. _Let the news be good._

'Well?' Sereniel asked, after Dralsi had been quiet for a few seconds.

The Dark Elf woman stared at us, then her face broke into a wide smile. 'Everything's fine,' she announced, mingled weariness, delight and triumph in her voice. 'And Ahsla now has one very healthy baby girl.'

The Flagon erupted with cheers. Mercer whooped and threw his cards into the air, and they rained down around him like confetti. Fjella threw her arms around Farmund, who for a moment froze, startled, and then relaxed and held her close, much to everyone's amusement. Blade thrust his sword into the dummy's chest with a triumphant hiss. I punched the air with both fists, Delvin chinked mugs with Sranys, and Sabinus and Sereniel simply let out long sighs of relief.

'Thank the Gods for that,' Sereniel murmured. 'She really had us worried.'

'There were a few complications,' Dralsi said, smiling, 'but Elandine and I together were able to sort everything out. Ahsla needs some time to recover, but she's going to be fine, and so is her daughter.'

Blade grinned and rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. 'Send her my congratulations.'

'And mine,' Farmund added.

A murmur of voices agreed. Sabinus looked at Dralsi. 'When can we go and see her?'

Dralsi laughed. 'As soon as Ahsla thinks she's up to having visitors.'

'Has she chosen a name?' I called.

My old mentor dipped her head. 'She's called Tonilia.'

I murmured the name under my breath, smiling. I loved the way it rolled off my tongue. It was a beautiful name.

'And has Ahsla still not said who the father is?'

A sudden, uneasy hush fell over the Flagon at Delvin's words. The Breton instantly looked as if he wished he hadn't spoken. I glanced at Mercer, who looked back with an expression as worried as my own.

'She hasn't,' Dralsi said carefully, 'and she's well within her rights not to. If she doesn't want to tell, then that is her choice to make.'

Sranys looked warningly at Delvin. 'And it's none of our business, anyway.'

Delvin muttered something incomprehensible, and took a hasty sip of his mead.

'I'm going to see if Elandine still needs help with anything,' Dralsi said quickly, breaking the awkward silence, 'and I'll be back with more news as soon as I can. And I'll tell her you're all happy for her.'

'Maybe not all.'

The words were whispered so softly that they were barely audible. I glanced around in surprise, but there was no one there. I tried to recognise the voice, but the words had been too quiet. I scanned the faces of those around me, but all bore wide smiles, and nobody looked as if they were at all unhappy. Eventually, I decided it must have been my imagination, and put it out of my mind.

It was a decision I'd soon regret.

* * *

A month later, I awoke with a terrible feeling that something was wrong.

Some of you shall understand what it is I speak of, others will not. But I have often found throughout my life- and throughout my death, too, that I sometimes know when there are ill events afoot. Perhaps you, at some point in your life, have found some deep and inexplicable knowledge warning you of danger. It is some sort of instinct that some mortals possess. It can be a blessing. Or it can be a curse.

The Cistern was dark when I opened my eyes. Quiet lay over my home like an invisible blanket, broken only by the gently rippling water, Mercer's soft snoring, and my colleagues stirring slightly in their sleep. The glow of the torches was faint and dim. I lay still, listening to the sound of my brothers and sisters breathing, gazing out over the shimmering pool. Tired as I was after yet another long, hard day of work, I did not feel like trying to go back to sleep. The feeling that something was amiss was strong, and it made me restless. I shifted edgily, pulling my blanket tighter around me.

At first, I wasn't certain what it was that might have awoken me; then my ears detected a rustling sound, and my eyes picked up movement a little way away. I turned my head in time to see a dark, blurred figure rise from their bed and slowly get to their feet, casting a surreptitious glance around as they did so. I tried my hardest to make out who it was, but they were several beds away from me, and it was too dark. I watched through narrowed eyes as whoever it was pulled on their boots and yanked what appeared to be a backpack out from under their bed. The torchlight reflected in their eyes for a moment as they turned, checking the Cistern, making sure no one was watching. I quickly closed my eyes, suddenly feeling that it was important that I was not seen looking. A moment later, I heard the unmistakable sound of someone pushing open the trapdoor, and carefully closing it behind them. Then all was quiet again.

I lay in the darkness, sighing inwardly. This was the night I had stumbled upon Nightingale Hall all over again. Without knowing who it was who had just stolen away, I could have no idea of their destination or their motive. They had taken a bag- did that mean they had been planning this, and that they were planning to be gone for some time? And if they were sneaking away in the dead of night, I very much doubted that their intentions were good.

I had a simple choice. Stay, and leave whoever it was to go wherever it was they were going and do whatever it was they were planning to do. Or follow, and risk facing their anger if I was seen… or a night as chaotic as that night eight years ago when I had discovered my inescapable destiny.

Perhaps I am simply too curious a mortal. Perhaps I was concerned for my fellow Guild member. Perhaps I was being guided by destiny yet again. But I knew that there was no way that I could say behind and allow these questions to go unanswered. And so, for whatever reason, I decided that I would follow.

_Maybe I'll regret this later, and maybe it's the wrong thing to do, _I thought, as I kicked back my covers and slipped my feet into my boots. But I simply could not allow whoever it was to slip away.

I followed them as stealthily as I could, up the ladder and out through the secret entrance. I saw instantly that they had not gone far. The dark shape of a man was standing at the foot of the Shrine of Talos, gazing up into the Ninth Divine's gentle eyes. I do not know even now how he did not hear the sound of the entrance opening to let me out- perhaps because of the howling wind, or maybe because he was lost in thought. But it hardly matters.

He did not stir as I approached. And as I neared him my brow furrowed as I realised who it was.

'What are you doing out here, Sabinus?' I called warily.

He started, but did not turn around. There was an air of sorrowful resignation about the way he said nothing and did not move, and I knew instantly that my instincts had been right, that something was deeply and terrible wrong.

'I don't know if he's one of them,' my Guild brother murmured, nodding towards the statue. 'I don't know how many there are. I just hope they're watching me now.'

I walked over to his eyes and looked at him in confusion. 'The Divines?'

'Yes.' Sabinus's gaze never left that of the stone God. 'I think I came out here so that they could see me. I wanted to make sure I'm about to do the right thing.'

I looked at him in bafflement. 'And what exactly is it you're planning on doing?'

He turned to me at last, and the desolate expression in his eyes made my heart stop. 'Leave,' he said softly. 'Leave the Guild, and not come back.'

My eyes widened, and I felt my mouth drop open. 'Leave?' I echoed incredulously. 'Why in the name of Oblivion would you want to leave?'

My Guild brother was silent for a long moment. 'If I tell you, do you swear on your honour not to breathe a word of it to anyone? I know I can trust you not to break a promise.'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

Sabinus looked back at Talos, at the ground, at the sky, and finally at me again. 'Are you sure you want to know?'

'I want to know why my brother looks as if his world is about to end,' I told him quietly.

He closed his eyes. 'It is. Because I'm Tonilia's father.'

It is a strange thing about mortals. When they seek an answer to a question, wonder about it night and day, and desire nothing more than to learn the truth, when they finally receive the answer, they refuse to believe it.

And I fear that I, in that respect, am just one more mortal.

'You?' I blurted out, staring at Sabinus as if he had sprouted an extra head. '_You're_ the father?'

'I know what you're going to say, Gallus.' My fellow Imperial swallowed hard. 'Please, don't make this any harder for me.'

I felt as if I had been punched in the face. Not for the first time in my life, I felt as if reality had been destroyed forever. I must have misheard, or else Sabinus was mistaken. There was no way that he could be Tonilia's father, not in a thousand years-

And then I realised that I was wrong.

I remembered the day I had come to the Guild, when Sabinus and Farmund had been arguing. The moment Ahsla had sided with Farmund, Sabinus had given way. I thought of how he was so quiet and withdrawn, except in the Redguard's presence, when he suddenly seemed to open up and smile and talk and laugh. I thought of how often I'd seen them together. I recalled all the many, many times I had seen him give her an unreadable look. And suddenly, it all made sense. Of course Sabinus was telling the truth. Of course he was Tonilia's father. There was no one else it could be.

'You mean…' For a few moments, I stammered stupidly, before finding me tongue. 'You mean, you and Ahsla-'

'Oh, no,' Sabinus interrupted sharply, his voice dripping with bitterness. 'Not me and Ahsla. Never me and Ahsla.' A broken sound, something like a sob but a thousand times more grief-filled and heartbroken, escaped his throat. 'I know she never looked at me the way I looked at her. Never thought of me the way I thought of her. Never loved me the way I loved her.'

I stared at him, unable to speak.

'It's not her fault. It was never her fault. I guess you can't choose who you do or don't fall in love with.' Sabinus shook his head. 'But I love her, Gallus. I've loved her for a long time and I doubt I'll ever love a soul but her. But she never wanted anything more than friendship from me.'

To say that I was shocked and confused would have been the greatest understatement in the history of Nirn. 'But… Tonilia?'

Sabinus's fists clenched, and another small sob escaped him. I had never seen anyone look so desperate and forlorn. 'I'm still not sure how…' He broke off, and I could see him fighting back tears. 'I think maybe Ahsla always wanted a child.'

I shook my head. 'No. I know Ahsla, and I know she wouldn't just use you like that. Not if she knew how you felt.'

'But that's just it. I don't think she does. I don't think she ever did.' Sabinus swallowed, turning back to the shrine. 'I… look, I don't want to talk about it, and I know I'll never be able to explain it. Tonilia's here now, and that means I can't stay.'

'Sabinus, have you taken leave of your senses?' I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face me. 'She's your daughter! Why in the name of the Divines does that mean you should go? If anything, it means the opposite! Don't you have a duty to her?'

'Of course I do!' Sabinus's heartbroken wail ripped through the night, and I prayed that there was no one else about to hear. 'But that's just it! I know I can never claim her as my own. How can I bear watching her grow up, seeing her every day, knowing she's mine, and yet never able to be a true father to her?' He buried his face in his hands. 'I can't stay here, Gallus, I just can't. For Tonilia's sake, just as much as my own. What's better for her – growing up knowing that some faceless stranger she'll never meet was her father, or having her father right there, every day of her life, and never knowing? And what if she does find out some day? What will she think of me then? I can't be her father, not truly. Gallus, you of all people should know that being a father is about more than just being responsible for a child's birth.'

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. 'Don't, Gallus. Please, don't. I've made my choice. It's better for everyone that I just leave. I know I'm being a coward. Anyone else would probably just live with it. I know you would. But I'm not as brave as you are, Gallus, and I can't live here anymore. I can hardly even live with myself, let alone my own daughter.'

'You're no coward, Sabinus,' I told him quietly. I knew that he was right, that he would never be able to bear living with a daughter he could never be a father to. And I knew that in his place, I might well feel the same. 'You've got the courage to know how you feel.'

'I feel like I'm letting Gurak down,' Sabinus admitted softly. 'Remember what he told us? Believe in yourself, follow your heart, never give up. I'm following my heart, but in doing so, I'm giving up.'

I placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Gurak couldn't have known this would happen.'

'I don't think anyone could,' Sabinus replied.

For a few moments, there was silence.

'I'm going now,' Sabinus told me suddenly. 'Before I get a chance to change my mind. I've still got family in Bruma. I can go home and try to make myself a decent living. And if that doesn't work out, I'll do what Orthwin did- wander around and try to find some other place. See what I can do with my life. I've still got most of it ahead of me, and I might still be able to pick up the pieces and make something out of myself.'

'Sabinus-'

He shook his head. 'Don't try to dissuade me. I've had a month to think about it, and I've made my choice. I've left a note for Sereniel to explain, and now I'm going. Don't try to talk me out of it.'

'I'm not going to.' I looked into his eyes. 'I'm going to say that I'm sorry this happened, and you didn't deserve this, and that I'll miss you, and that I hope you find a good life for yourself.'

My Guild brother smiled at me. 'Thanks, Gallus. You've been a good friend to me for a long time, and I'm grateful.'

He sighed deeply. 'I should go. Now. I don't want to think too much about what I'm doing, because I'll just start hating myself more.'

'Don't hate yourself,' I snapped. 'None of this was your fault.'

He blinked back a tear. 'Thanks, Gallus, but it was.' He picked up the backpack he'd left lying beside the statue. 'Remember what Gurak said. Live your life well. If you don't become Guildmaster one day, I'll want to know the reason why.'

He breathed in deeply and held out his hand. 'I guess this is goodbye. Will you tell Ahsla from me that it's not her fault, none of it? And to look after Tonilia?'

'Of course I will.' I clasped his hand in mine and suddenly found myself fighting back tears of my own. 'Farewell, Sabinus,' I said, my voice suddenly choking with sorrow. 'Gods go with you.'

'And with you,' Sabinus replied softly.

He let out a long sigh, gave me a brief nod, cast one final look at the entrance to the Cistern, and turned away.

I watched him walk out of my life. His head was bowed, and his shoulders were hunched as if he bore the weight of the world on his back. Slowly, he traipsed away into the darkness, vanishing into the shadows of the alleys that he and I had darted down so many times with the guards right behind us. He didn't look back, and within seconds, he was gone.

I never saw Sabinus of Bruma again. But I think of him often. I wonder, wonder so much, whether he found happiness. I hope he did. I pray to all the Gods he did. He was a true friend and a good man. He did not deserve such heartbreak. I miss him, even now.

His path, for sure, was clouded by shadows and sorrow. He tried his best to make a light for himself, to chase away the gloom, but found that he could not. And so he chose a different path. A path still dangerous and dark, but one that might still hide a speck of light at the end.

Sometimes, bad things will happen to those who are underserving of them. The best way to cope with them is not always the easiest. Sometimes, there is no right answer.

I learned much that night.

* * *

'Hold on a minute. Where's Sabinus?'

I swallowed nervously at the sound of Sranys's voice. Of course, I had known from the start that sooner or later someone would notice the Imperial's absence, quiet though he was. I had just hoped that it might not be so soon. I shot a sideways glance at Ahsla, and sent a quiet prayer to the Gods that the entire situation would be cleaned up without her secret being revealed. I crossed my fingers as I saw Sereniel glance up, and hoped she'd found the note Sabinus had left for her.

I saw brows furrow and confused gazes sweep the Flagon. Ahsla's eyes widened, and she held Tonilia closer to her.

'He's gone,' Sereniel announced bluntly.

Elandine frowned, her hands on her hips. 'What do you mean, he's gone?'

'Just that. He's gone,' Sereniel replied.

I bit my lip. Surely the Wood Elf would not reveal the truth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ahsla shake her head and mouth words I was just able to make out. _Oh, Gods, no._

'His father's ill,' Sereniel announced, and I sagged with relief. 'Sabinus has had to go back to Cyrodiil to take care of him. He doesn't think he'll be able to return.'

Startled, shocked murmurs rose up from the Guild memners. 'He could at least have said goodbye,' Mercer grunted.

Ahsla had closed her eyes, but as I watched, she abruptly opened them again. She met my gaze for a moment, then shuddered, dropped it quickly, and turned her head away.

'A great pity,' Blade said heavily. 'He had much talent. I shall miss him.'

'Yes, well, we can get upset about it later. For now, there's work to be done.' Sereniel rose to her feet. 'Mercer and Elandine, you should have been on the road to Windhelm ten minutes ago. Sranys and Fjella, I want a word with you about that Dawnstar mission. The rest of you, carry on with whatever it is you were doing.'

I realised that she was trying to distract us, to turn our attention away from Sabinus's unanticipated departure. A wave of gratitude swept over me. Sereniel was always looking out for her Guild members.

As the others returned to their work, I saw Ahsla get to her feet and walk hastily away in the direction of the Cistern. After a few moments of careful, worried consideration, I subtly got up and crept after her.

The Cistern was deserted, as it usually was at this time of morning. The other Guild members would either be out on missions or relaxing in the Flagon. I scanned the chamber, and quickly located the Redguard woman. She was sitting on the end of her bed, cradling Tonilia and crying gently. At the sound of the door closing behind me, she looked up, and before I could say anything, she spoke in a low voice. 'You know, don't you?'

I nodded slowly and walked over to her. 'Yes. I know. Sabinus spoke to me last night, before he went away.'

'I'll never forgive myself for this,' Ahsla told me bitterly, her face streaked with tears. 'I never meant for any of this to happen. I always wanted a child of my own, but… I was never able to find anyone. And I was selfish enough to use Sabinus. I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't realise how… how he felt. Not until afterwards. And now he's gone. I can't even tell him I'm sorry, and that's the worst of it. He was such a good friend, and now look what I did to him.'

I knew there was nothing I could say that could make a difference, that would put right everything that had happened, or make it any easier for her. I still didn't understand how exactly it had come to this, but that was beside the point. What was done was done, and there was no changing it.

'You've got Tonilia, though,' I pointed out. 'At least some good has come out of it.'

Ahsla's expression softened. 'Yes, there is that. I wouldn't exchange her for all the wealth in Skyrim.' She winced, as if in physical pain. 'It's just a good thing she doesn't look Imperial at all.'

'I won't tell anyone about this, Ahsla,' I told her quietly. 'I promise.'

She smiled weakly. 'Thank you, Gallus. I just wish there was some way of making it right. I wish I'd seen how Sabinus felt before…'

'You couldn't have known. It wasn't your fault. He said so himself. He asked me to tell you.'

The Redguard swallowed hard. 'He would say that.' She looked at Tonilia with wet, pained eyes. 'If I could just find some way to say sorry…'

'He also asked me to tell you to look after Tonilia.' I looked down at the sleeping child, blissfully unaware of the chaos her birth had caused. 'I think that's the best way you can apologise to him, if you feel you need to. Do everything you can for his daughter.'

Ahsla smiled through her tears. 'Yes. You're right.' She sighed heavily. 'I'll get over this eventually. Thank you for telling me what he said, Gallus. I… I really appreciate your concern.'

I shook my head. 'I'm your brother, Ahsla. It's my duty.'

The Redguard bowed her head and gave no reply.

As I returned to the Flagon, I sent a silent prayer to the Divines. _Neither Sabinus nor Ahsla meant for this to happen, _I told them in my mind. _Grant them happiness. Let Ahsla overcome her guilt. Let Sabinus find a new and better life. Let Tonilia grow happy and strong, despite the troubles that surround her birth. Take care of my brother, and both of my sisters. Grant them your guidance. Please._

* * *

It was just another day in Riften. The merchants called out their wares, the citizens and traders bustled backwards and forwards, street children so like the boy I had once been darted in and out of the stalls, and guards desperately tried to impose some kind of order. The sun bathed the world in a bright golden gleam, the canal water rippled softly beneath the bridges, and birds and butterflies flashed through the air in blurs of vivid colour. Just one more day. People went about their lives as usual. None of them knew of the troubles in the hidden city below them. None of them knew that one of my greatest friends was gone for good. None of them knew that my Guild brother had vanished through those tall wooden gates, that he would never again open them.

The thought both comforted and saddened me. It was good to know that no matter what happened down below, in the Ratways and the Cistern and the Ragged Flagon, life always went on as normal on the surface above. The world kept turning, and the people kept carrying wealth, and the thieves kept stealing it. That would never change. And yet, it hurt me to know that none of these people knew or even cared that Ahsla and Sabinus had a secret daughter, and that her birth had driven him away forever.

Still. There was nothing to be done about it. The city of Riften went on, and life went on, and the Guild went on. The Guild would always go on, no matter who we lost, no matter what troubles we faced. The Guild would live forever.

'Gallus. I need a word.'

Sereniel's voice took me by surprise, and I turned to see her leaning against the wall nearby, her arms folded across her chest. My Guildmaster had the kind of eyes that seemed to drill into you, look right inside you, and I realised instantly that she was well aware that I knew Ahsla's secret. It had been pointless to think I could hide such a secret from Sereniel.

'What can I do for you?' I asked, a little nervously.

The Bosmer raised her eyes slightly. 'Gallus, I know that you know about Sabinus.'

I nodded. 'I thought so. How did you realise?'

'It's a Guildmaster's place to know things. I saw your face when I said that Sabinus had gone back to Cyrodiil to look after his family. You didn't look shocked, just sad. And a little relieved.'

'I saw him last night,' I explained. 'Before he left. He told me pretty much everything.'

Sereniel sighed quietly. 'It's a tough world, sometimes,' she murmured, and I wasn't certain whether she was speaking to me or to herself.

'I still don't really understand how it came to this,' I admitted to her.

The Wood Elf snorted softly. 'Nor do I, and nor can anyone but Ahsla and Sabinus. This isn't the first time something like this has happened in my experience, Gallus. This kind of thing just does happen sometimes, and you can't see it coming. There's no use dwelling on it now, because it's in the past. The upshot of it all is that we've lost a bloody good member, one of our seniors has had her confidence wrecked, and we've got a one-month-old baby to take care of.'

I grimaced. 'When you look at it like that, there doesn't seem to be much on the plus side.'

Sereniel laughed. 'We've also got a new member who, if she's anything like her parents, will grow up to be a damn fine thief. I've learned a fair bit about keeping a closer eye on the relationships between my members. Ahsla's got the child she always longed to have. And you know, Sabinus was never completely certain that it was right, for him to be a thief. Maybe he'll be able to find an honest life he can be more comfortable with. We've been hit hard by this, and Ahsla and Sabinus were hit even harder. But we need to pull together and stay strong, and everything will turn out fine.'

A small smile found its way onto my face. 'That's true. I just hope none of the others guess that Sabinus left because of Tonilia. He gave it a month, but it might not have been long enough.'

'I'll try and make sure no one ever finds out.' Sereniel chewed her lip thoughtfully. 'You spoke to Ahsla, didn't you?'

I nodded again. 'Did you see me follow her, or did you just guess that?'

'Both. Saw you go after her, realised Sabinus must have spoken to you, put two and two together and decided that Sabinus must have asked you to take a message or something to her.'

'He did.' I remembered that Sabinus had asked me not to speak of his secret to anyone, but Sereniel already knew, and there was no point hiding the truth from her.

Sereniel dipped her head slowly. 'I won't ask you what he said. But how did Ahsla respond?'

I sighed. 'She blames herself. But she thinks she'll get over it eventually. And she's going to care for Tonilia as best as she can.'

'Good.' Sereniel rubbed her hands together in a business-like way. 'Looking after her daughter might be able to take her mind of the matter somewhat. I'll have a word with her later, see what I can do to soften the blow.' She looked at me intently. 'It says a lot about you, Gallus.'

I frowned in confusion. 'What does?'

'The fact that Sabinus trusted you enough to tell you the truth, and that Ahsla was at least a little comforted by what you said.'

'It was more chance than anything that I was able to talk to Sabinus. And I didn't say all that much to Ahsla.'

'Maybe.' The Bosmer gave me a slightly twisted smile. 'But it shows that your Guild siblings trust you to listen to them. And you've got what it takes to make them listen to you. That's a good sign.'

My bafflement steadily increasing, I shook my head slightly. 'A good sign of what?'

Sereniel grinned. 'A sign that you might end up wearing this armour one day.'

She tapped her chest, and I stared at her in astonishment. Could she really mean the jet black leather of the Guildmaster's armour?

Before I could speak, I heard shouting from nearby. I glanced at Sereniel and turned to see what the problem was, letting out a silent groan. Would this day's troubles never come to an end? Couldn't the Divines see that we had all been through as much as we could take?

I followed Sereniel out of the alleys and into the marketplace, and instantly my hand flew to the hilt of my sword. An Argonian girl- little more than a hatchling, was lying on the ground, breathing hard, her eyes round with fear. Her dress was torn and ragged, and slowly rolling away from her over the ground was an apple- one of the green apples that the food stall sold. Looming over the child, his shadow wreathing her in blackness, was the tall, sturdy figure of a town guard. With a twinge of unease, I recognised him- the one who'd confronted me the day I'd joined the Guild. He was in our pay like all the guards, but he had never fully bowed to our will.

As I watched, uncertain of what to do, the man leaned down and grabbed the neck of the Argonian's dress, wrenching her off the ground. 'Another thief,' he growled, his voice trembling with rage. 'Thieves, wherever I turn. They've infected this city. I've had enough of them.'

'Please!' The Argonian writhed and squirmed in his grip. 'My parents are dead… and I'm so hungry-'

'You can make your excuses from your cell, lizard.' The guard dropped her, and she lay sprawled on the ground, tears flowing down her brown-scaled face. 'The law is the law. You disrespect the law, and you disrespect me.'

Sereniel and I glanced at each other, and strode forwards together. 'That's enough!' Sereniel snapped, and I had hardly ever heard her sound so angry in my entire life. 'Leave the child be.'

The guard's head turned, his eyes glinting dangerously from behind his helmet. 'More thieves,' he snarled, staring at our armour.

'The girl's done no wrong. One apple is barely worthy of a fine, let alone a jail sentence.' My Guildmaster's clear, commanding voice rapped through the air, and I saw the entire marketplace slowly turning in our direction. 'Your dedication to your work is admirable. But there's no need to overreact.'

'Overreact?' The guard took a step towards the Bosmer, his hand closing around the hilt of his blade. 'She stole. She's a thief. The law says thieves go to jail.'

'The law also says that an attempted theft of something so small is worth a ten Septim fine at the most.'

'And if the lizard's got no money?'

The guard turned his head and made as if to move towards the Argonian, but I drew my sword and stepped in his path, my eyes narrowed. 'I don't want to use this,' I warned him, lifting my blade slightly, 'but if you touch that child, I'll have to.'

The hatchling pulled herself to her feet, looked between us for a moment, then abruptly snatched up the apple, turned tail, and ran. I saw her duck between a few merchants, hurdle the market wall, and disappear from view. Within seconds, the sound of her frantic footsteps had faded.

The guard stared after her, then slowly raked his gaze over Sereniel and I. 'You thieves think you own this city,' he hissed. 'You think we all belong to you. We don't. I don't. I don't need your money. I don't want you laying down the law. I represent the law, and you thieves break it every day and expect to get away with it. You can't. You won't.' His voice was steadily rising, and I knew that danger was looming up on the horizon.

Sereniel opened her mouth to speak, but the Nord cut across her. 'I've had enough of it. This city can go to Oblivion.' He drew his blade. 'And so can you.'

What happened next was very sudden, so sudden that I never saw it coming. One moment, the man was standing in front of us, and we were facing him. And the next, everything was chaos. I felt something or someone slam into me, and without warning, a vivid, red-hot pain seared through me, as if someone had pressed a flaming torch to my flesh. I heard my own cry rip through the air, and over it a sudden blur of voices.

'Someone do something!'

'Stop him!'

'By the Nine, no!'

Colours flashed in front of my eyes, and the next thing I knew I was falling, falling backwards into nothingness. The last thing I saw before my head hit the cobbles and the world turned black was Sereniel shouting my name, letting out a roar of fury and stepping forwards.

Stepping into the guard's path.

Shielding me with her body.

Taking his sword through her chest.

And her blood painting the ground as the world shimmered and turned black.

* * *

**Ugh, I don't know what's wrong with me. Why can I not write something HAPPY?**

**Well, this chapter was another of those ones which just had to be written. But I promise, in a few chapter's time, some nice stuff will be happening, and people will actually be joining the Guild. But first, Gallus has a destiny to fulfil.**

**I am so sorry for writing such a completley depressing chapter. See you guys soon. Thanks for reading.**


	18. Pledge

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Voices. Voices in the darkness. The voices of strangers. The voices of friends. Voices that echoed in my ears and pounded in my head in a never-ending blur of bellowing noise.

From some dark place at the very edge of life, I heard them. I felt gentle hands rest on my shoulder, saw faces filled with fear gazing down at me, heard their whispers and pleas through the haze of shadows.

'_Stay with us, Gallus.'_

'_It's all right, brother. You're safe. Everything's going to be fine.'_

'_Don't you go dying on us now, Desidenius. Don't you dare die. If you die, I'll kill you.'_

I heard their voices… but I did not listen. I could not listen. The words were meaningless, nothing but shapeless sounds. They washed over me like water. Cold water. Icy water. I was barely even able to register the fact that they had spoken at all, let alone the meanings of whatever it was they had said.

I am not sure I can describe it, what I went through then. I have only hazy half-memories, and they are memories I have done all I can to forget. What I do remember is blackness, inky and impenetrable. I remember my own fear, burning inside me like a flame. I remember my strength fading as if it were slowly being drawn from my body, like a vampire sucking blood from a victim. I remember nightmares that gripped my heart and mind and body and soul, sending terror raging through me, making the sound of my own, desperate screams pound against my ears. And I remember one thing that is engraved into my memory, yet I sometimes doubt actually happened.

Perhaps it was but one more hallucination. In truth, I cannot fully recall any of those terrible dreams that tormented me as I lay in that endless oblivion. I know that they terrified me more than anything ever had before or ever has since, but the details escape me. I think, in one of them, I heard Henja calling my name in a voice that made my heat shatter into pieces, and maybe in another Marcella stared at me with grey-blue eyes that sparkled with tears, but I cannot be certain. But there was one dream that I do remember… or maybe it was not a dream.

In the midst of that strange realm that is unconsciousness, in that confusing land where every mortal goes as their life hangs by a thread, I felt my strength waning with every second that passed. Slowly but surely, my life was leaving me, and I knew that I could do nothing. I found myself sinking into darkness. Exhaustion was weighing on my limbs, dragging me down. Shadow rose up to take me, and I did not fight. I did not have the strength to try and hold on to life.

I relaxed my hold on the world, and let the blissful darkness take me, welcoming me into its embrace.

And then I heard it. Speaking from the shadows. One word, but the most commanding and powerful word I had ever heard in my entire life.

_No._

It was a voice, but no voice that I had ever heard before. It was spoken not only to my ears but to my mind, for the single word was suddenly resonating in my head, soft but somehow loud, too. Every corner of the shadows seemed to be whispering it.

_No,_ the voice repeated. _Not yet._

I was rising. Rising upwards. The murk was retreating, letting me go. Confusion built up within me. Why was it releasing its hold on me? Only seconds earlier it had been sucking me down. Why did it no longer want to take me?

_Your time to die is not yet at hand, _the voice whispered. _There is still a duty for you to fulfil, Gallus Desidenius. There is a destiny for you to discover. There is an Oath for you to make…_

And then the darkness was gone, and the world was returning. Returning in a flash of blinding light- and a sudden, terrible burst of pain.

Pain. Endless pain. Unimaginable and indescribable pain. Pain as if my entire body were on fire, a fire that would never die, a fire that burned fiercer than a thousand suns. Pain that consumed everything, that ruled my entire world. There was not an inch of me that did not hurt. It was as if my stomach had been filled with tiny, biting creatures that were slowly eating me apart from the inside.

I tried to open my eyes, but the world was nothing but a blur when I finally managed it, so I closed them again. My ears detected a rustling sound, and then a tense, familiar voice was ringing through the air. 'He's awake.'

More rustling, and I felt the presences of several people nearby. The voice grew louder with anger. 'Move back, you thick-headed oafs. Give me some space.'

I knew that voice. I was certain I did. An image swam into my mind, hazy and distorted. An Elf. Yellowish skin and long golden hair. Elandine. My sister in crime, Elandine.

Even with my eyes closed, I detected a sudden flash of light. A strange feeling washed over me, as if warm winds were blowing around my body. And they were blowing away the pain. It was fading, diminishing. It was still there, but it was fainter now, easier to bear. I let out a strained sigh and forced myself to open my eyes.

Elandine was standing over me, her hands held above me, her face creased and her eyes narrowed with concentration. Gold light was dancing around her palms, and I knew that she had cast a healing spell. Behind her I saw familiar faces, those of my Guild brothers and sisters, all staring at me with concern and fear.

'There we are,' Elandine announced, taking a step back. 'That'll do for now.'

'You lot aren't doing any good standing around here.' A new voice now, but one I recognised. One I knew well. 'Leave him be, you'll just disorientate him. He needs all the peace and quiet he can get.'

_Dralsi?_

I heard the sound of retreating footsteps, but one of the blurred figures did not move. 'Can you save him?' asked another familiar voice – a voice that sounded strange when all of its usual brashness and brazenness had been replaced with anxiety and fear.

'We'll do all we can, Mercer,' Dralsi promised quietly.

And that was when I knew that I was in danger, real, mortal danger. Because if Mercer was speaking of saving me, not curing me or healing me but saving me, and Dralsi had been forced to give an answer that was not definite…

Then there was a very real possibility that my time on Nirn might be over.

And yet somehow I felt that there was nothing to fear, no reason for me to worry. I knew, somehow, that I was not at risk of death. Because that voice was still echoing within my mind. _Your time to die is not yet at hand, _it had said. And somehow I could not doubt that it had spoken the truth.

Because although I was by no means an expert in the matter, I had a feeling that Daedric Princes seldom lied to those that they had chosen.

And so when I closed my eyes and allowed the darkness to consume me once more, a welcome and blissful relief from the dull, aching pain, I did it without fear. Because I knew that I had a destiny to fulfil before my death.

I spent many, many hours lying there in my bed in the Cistern, drifting in and out of sleeping and consciousness, light and darkness, pain and numbness. Sometimes, my sleep would plague me with nightmares, and when I came to, it would either be crying out in terror or paralysed by fear. Elandine or Dralsi would always be with me, sometimes even both of them. Elandine would cast her spells, her usually expressionless face betraying uncharacteristic anxiety, and Dralsi would lay her hand on my shoulder and murmur that I had nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would happen to me as long as she could help it. She would often tip some kind of potion down my throat, and the strange flavours would explode inside my mouth, almost, but not quite, jolting me back into full life.

Time wore on, slowly, so slowly. I was never able to summon the strength to speak, but I felt myself growing stronger with every passing hour. Dralsi and Elandine together were pulling me back to the world. Every time I awoke, the agony would be lessened, and gradually I regained the ability to properly take in the words, and to smile, and finally to speak. But I did not speak beyond a few quiet words of thanks when another potion or healing spell did its work. There was only one thing I wanted to say, only one question I wanted to ask, and I was too badly afraid of the answer to ask it.

Finally, the time came when my eyes opened, and I found myself feeling, though still weak, far stronger than before. Elandine and Dralsi were not with me this time, but someone else was. I smiled up at him as best as I could, and he rolled his eyes.

'Do you have a death wish or something, Desidenius? Why in the name of Oblivion would you pick a fight with guard that hadn't cleaned his sword? Clearly you didn't consider that fact that the rest of the Guild would have to fuss over you while you tried to recover from being stabbed in the chest, _and_ an infected wound?'

I laughed quietly. 'Your sympathy is immensely encouraging, Mercer.'

He grinned, but his eyes betrayed his worry. 'Next time, before you let anyone stab you, make sure they've got a clean weapon. It'll save a lot of bother, not to mention potions and magicka.'

'Sorry. I wasn't focusing much on how dirty the sword was while it was being shoved into my chest,' I told him dryly.

'I was kidding.' His face grew more sombre. 'In all seriousness, how are you feeling?'

I snorted. 'Pathetic.'

'I'm not surprised. You've been halfway between life and death for two days. I had to ride out to Shor's Stone to get Dralsi to help out. She says that if the sword had gone into you just a few inches more to the right, there'd have been nothing she could have done, and you'd have been taking a one-way trip to Aetherius. You were damned lucky.'

_No. Just being protected by a Daedric Prince, _I thought.

And then, of course, I was thinking about someone who was also protected by Nocturnal. Someone who might not have received the same amount of uncanny luck as I had. 'Mercer…'

'Uh huh?'

I swallowed. 'Sereniel. What happened to her?'

The Breton's face grew grave, and his gaze dropped to the floor. 'She… Sereniel didn't make it,' he said quietly.

It was like being stabbed all over again. I had seen her transfixed by the blade, I had suspected that she would have been killed, I had known in my heart that she would never have survived, but it made no difference to the pain. The Wood Elf had been our leader, our Guildmaster, the woman who had welcomed me into the Guild and watched over me and all of the rest of us since the day I joined. She had looked out for us and cared for us. She had protected and guided us. She had been something of a mother to us. And now she was gone. Sereniel, one of the best and bravest people I had ever known, was gone.

'Farmund and Blade heard the yelling in the market. They rushed over there in time to see the guard wiping his sword on his tunic. And of course, you two were lying on the ground in your own blood.' I winced at Mercer's words, but motioned for him to continue. 'You were out for the count. Rie was alive, but only just. He got her right through the heart. From what the others said, she looked up at them and said, 'You let Gallus die and I swear I'll come back to haunt you. Look after the Guild, Blade. Trust in yourself and lead them well. Tell them all it was an honour to serve with them. Eyes open. Walk with the shadows.' And then before they could do anything…' Mercer shook his head. 'She was gone.'

I bowed my head, a soft sob breaking from my throat. Why? Why had Sereniel had to die, so soon after Sabinus had left us? It was too much, too quickly, too soon.

'Cut that out,' Mercer snapped brashly. 'There's been enough tears shed over this already. It was her time to die and that's the end of it. We just have to keep going.'

I said nothing. What was there to say? Of course Mercer was right, but it didn't make the loss of our leader any easier. No matter how much I tried to banish them from my mind, memories kept flashing through my head. Sereniel, accepting me into the Guild. Sereniel, working and sometimes fighting alongside me in mission after mission. Sereniel, throwing herself into the guard's path to stop him from hurting me further, allowing him to drive his sword into her chest…

She must have known that trying to stop him would kill her. And yet still she had sacrificed herself.

'The guard was arrested, of course,' Mercer continued, clearly trying to distract me. 'He's going to be spending quite some time in a cell, and that's if he's lucky. The Black-Briar's aren't happy at the fact that our leader's been taken out. They're asking for his execution.'

'He'd deserve it,' I snarled, and was instantly surprised at myself. He had been insane, for sure. But we had caused that insanity. His anger and frustration had been caused by us. No matter what he had done, he was still another mortal. Did anything truly justify the taking of a life?

'I'll second that,' Mercer agreed. 'I'd have killed him myself if I'd been there.'

I tried to force the troubling thoughts from my head. 'So, is Blade our Guildmaster now?'

Mercer nodded. 'You were still out for the ceremony. Not that it was much of a ceremony. We pretty much just handed him the armour and said, you're leader, get on with it.'

I laughed. 'Typical of the Thieves Guild, really. Has he chosen a second yet?'

'Not yet. Only senior members we've got left are Ahsla and Farmund, and neither of them are too keen on the job. I mean, Ahsla's got her hands full with Tonilia, and Farmund… well, he could be a good enough deputy, but being second's not just about supporting the Guildmaster.'

I understood what he meant instantly. 'It's about being a possible future leader. And Farmund wouldn't want to lead.'

Mercer dipped his head in agreement. 'He's never been the type, really.'

There was the sound of leather boots on the stone floor, and I saw Blade and Dralsi approaching. The Argonian smiled at me as he neared us. 'Good to see you awake and well at last.'

'Awake, yes.' I pulled myself up a little so as to talk to him more easily. 'Not so sure about well.'

'Well, better, at the very least.' Blade chuckled, but I saw the sorrow in his copper eyes, and I knew that he was still grieving for Sereniel. The Bosmer and the Argonian had been working partners for many, many years, and the greatest of friends. Together, they had become the best at what they did. It was as a partnership that the Elf and the Beast had made the Guild stronger and wealthier than it had been for centuries. And now Sereniel was gone, leaving Blade to lead her Guild alone.

'You had us pretty worried, you know,' Dralsi told me. 'You were incredibly lucky. That wound could easily have been fatal.'

I was uncertain of what to say, so I said nothing, and merely smiled and nodded.

'We need a word with you,' Blade announced, glancing at Dralsi for a second. 'It concerns… what happened when you were eight.'

It hit me suddenly. The Nightingales. How could I have forgotten? Sereniel… she had been a Nightingale. The Trinity was down to two.

And that meant…

'Mercer, could we ask you to leave us for a moment?' Dralsi turned to the Breton, her voice calm but commanding. He opened his mouth to protest, but saw Blade's expression, and clearly thought better of it.

He nodded slowly. I could see that he was confused- and angry, too. He did not understand why he was being forced to leave now- and why should he? 'I'll be back later,' he promised me.

Blade waited for him to go, before looking at Dralsi again and beginning to speak. 'I expect you've worked out what we want to speak to you about,' he told me in a low voice.

'The Nightingales,' I predicted.

'Exactly. The Nightingales.' Dralsi drew in a deep breath. 'The Guild, and everything else that the Trinity is sworn to protect, is not safe while there are only two of us. Nocturnal will understand, I'm sure, that we cannot fill the now empty position yet. I'm almost certain that she's chosen you, and even if she has not, there is no other in the Guild who is both ready and worthy.'

Blade hissed softly - a sound which, over the years, I had come to learn meant that he was in agreement. 'There must be three of us. We must keep a balance. With Sereniel gone, a third must be chosen. And you are the only choice.'

'We understand that you need time to recover,' Dralsi assured me. 'And it won't surprise me in the slightest if you feel you're too young. I know that I would, at your age.'

Blade laughed. 'I'm amazed you can even remember how you'd feel about anything at sixteen. When were you born again? 3E 376?'

'Shut up,' Dralsi told him, punching him lightly on the arm.

'3E 376?' I repeated, intrigued. That was an interesting period of history, one which I'd read much about.

Dralsi waved her hand airily. 'Yes, yes, I'm ancient by human and beastfolk standards, and clearly that's hilarious. Now can we please return to the subject of the Nightingales?'

Blade grinned. 'Very well. Listen, Gallus, I expect you don't feel up to a journey to Nightingale Hall just yet-'

'You expect rightly,' I confirmed.

'Even if you did, I wouldn't let you go. You need to rest for at least another day,' Dralsi told me firmly. 'But as soon as you feel up to it, we need to restore the Trinity. Every moment that there are only two of us to defend the Twilight Sepulchre, the Guild is in more and more danger.'

'I understand,' I assured her. 'And I'm ready. At least… I think I am.'

'You're ready, Gallus.' Blade placed a hand on my shoulder. 'Believe in yourself. I swear that soon, all will be well.'

* * *

Nightingale Hall. It stood unchanged by the years, almost exactly as I remembered it. The stream trickled through it still, torchlight shimmering on the silver water. The banners, ragged and ripped, still hung from the walls. The bookshelves lined the walls, mostly in pieces. I frowned, wondering whether there were still any books remaining in this place, and what secrets they might contain…

'No time to admire the scenery, Gallus,' Dralsi called. 'You have an Oath to make.'

I nodded apologetically and hurried after her, Blade bringing up the rear. A day had passed since Mercer had broken the news of Sereniel's death, and though the wound in my chest still ached, I was able to walk again. Blade had forbidden me to go on any missions for at least a month, which infuriated me, even though I understood that it was for my own good. The Guild was slowly recovering from the loss of its leader, and business had resumed as usual. Dralsi had returned to Shor's Stone, but a few minutes previously Blade and I had met up with her, as arranged, outside Nightingale Hall, ready to bring me before Nocturnal.

I was still uncertain how I felt about it. I knew that this was a one-way journey. Once my Oath to Nocturnal was struck, there would be no going back. I would be bound to the Daedric Prince of luck and shadow for the rest of my life, and for my entire afterlife as well. So much of my freedom was about to be restricted. I would never enter Aetherius, never feast alongside my ancestors. No, there would be a different path set out for me. I would have to defend the Twilight Sepulchre both while I lived and after my death. I would have no choice. I had always taken refuge in the fact that ultimately, no one could change the path of my life but me. But now, I began to doubt that. What if I had merely been a plaything of the Daedra, all along?

But Dralsi and Blade and Sereniel had all taken the same path, and none of them had ever had any regrets. I trusted their judgement, their wisdom. If they said that this was my destiny, then I needed nothing more. I did not fully understand what becoming a Nightingale would mean for me, nor what the consequences might be. But I was willing to risk it.

If they were right about me being a born Nightingale, right from the moment that I was created by the Divines, then in any case, I had no choice in the matter. And if they were wrong, then I had still only one option. Because there were no others ready to make the Oath, while there were only two Nightingales, we were all in danger. And I had to protect my Guild. I could never face them again if I didn't.

Blade and Dralsi led me over to a trio of stone cubes set into the wall. 'These are the armour stones. One for each of us,' Dralsi explained, walking over to the stone on the left. 'If you ever need to don your Nightingale armour, it's a simple process.' She laid her hands on the stone, and without warning, she was wreathed by a black cloud that surrounded her completely. For a few moments, the shadowy glow obscured her body. Then it faded, to reveal her standing exactly where she had been before, but now wearing that familiar silvery-black armour.

'Go on,' Blade told me, giving me a small nudge towards the stone in the centre as he went over to the rightmost stone. 'It feels a little strange, but there is no danger.'

I hesitantly walked over to the stone and pressed my hands to its cold, hard surface. My vision darkened and the rest of the world was blotted out by a thick black shroud of pure darkness. It whirled around me, and I felt a strange sensation wash over me, as if I had been thrown into a pool of icy water. It only lasted for a few seconds, and when it faded, I found myself wearing the same armour as Dralsi and Blade. Awed, I ran my hands over its sleek, shining surface, fingering the soft cloth of the cloak and feeling the hardness of the metal. It felt strong enough for no sword to stand a chance of penetrating it, yet supple enough to allow me free movement. With this, I knew, I could be almost invisible in the darkness. I had never in my life felt more like a true thief.

'Now,' Dralsi announced, turning to face me. 'I think it's time we explained properly to you what being a Nightingale is all about. We told you some of the story eight years ago, but not all. Now it's time for you to know the whole truth.'

'Nocturnal needs the Nightingales as much as the Nightingales need Nocturnal,' Blade explained. 'We're sworn to her, and she is sworn to us. She guides us in our exploits and grants us powerful abilities. She favours us over all other mortals, and protects us as best as she can.'

I felt a spark of anger kindle within me. 'She didn't protect Sereniel.'

Dralsi sighed heavily. 'Sereniel had been a Nightingale for many years, Gallus. Her time was over. Nocturnal must have decided that the time had come for you to take her place. We can't fathom how her mind works. She lives through mystery.'

I said nothing, so Blade carried on. 'In return for the help she gives us, Nocturnal demands a simple price. We belong to her. Our souls and our service are hers. In life, we must guard Nightingale Hall and the Twilight Sepulchre against all those who would seek to desecrate it. And in death, we are sent to guard the Twilight Sepulchre as spirits. That is where Sereniel will be now.'

'For eternity?' I asked them incredulously. 'We spend the rest of time guarding a temple as ghosts?'

'No.' Dralsi shook her head. 'Nocturnal only keeps us there for as long as it takes for us to fulfil our contract with her. She remembers every favour she does for us. We must serve her as sentinels for long enough to her to feel that we have repaid our debt to her. When that happens, she takes us into her own realm. The Evergloam.'

Blade's tail swished back and forth. 'When a Nightingale arrives there, they receive the greatest honour and reward that Nocturnal can give. They become one with the shadows, a living part of the darkness around us.' He waved his hand at the surrounding murk. 'The Nightingales that have passed into Evergloam are our guardians, helpers and allies. They walk alongside us, and when we are in danger, they come to our aid. If you ever find yourself surrounded in shadow just before a guard turns to look at you, then you have almost certainly been protected by a former Nightingale who was watching over you from Evergloam.'

Amazed, I looked at the clustering shadows around us. Were some of these patches of darkness the spirits of Nightingales from days gone by? In a place like this, it was almost certain. The thought was fascinating, comforting and unnerving, all at once.

'But that's only part of the story,' Dralsi continued, before I could speak. 'The realms of Nirn and Evergloam are bound together through the Ebonmere, Nocturnal's conduit between our worlds. It's through the Ebonmere that she influences Nirn. Unlike other Daedric Princes, she doesn't use magic or battles or monsters or prophecies. Nocturnal's power is present on Nirn constantly, even though most mortals never realise it. It is through luck that she carries out her will.'

'Luck?' I repeated. 'She controls our fortune?'

'Why do you think she's known as Lady Luck?' Blade chuckled quietly. 'Nocturnal's gift of luck is what makes a pick hold for the vital few seconds it takes to open a locked door before you're spotted. It's what makes clouds cover the moons at just the right moment. It's what makes guards get drunk or fall asleep, and makes an apprehended thief be thrown into the cell with a badly made lock, and makes a target turn their back to provide a perfect opportunity. Think of all the times luck has saved you in the past, Gallus. A thief cannot live without luck.'

I thought. I thought of spotting the glow of a giant's campfire in time to lead the troll chasing Henja and I to its death. I thought of Azhanri's caravan turning up out of the blue, mere moments before I was torn to pieces by wolves. I thought of a cart of hay being positioned just below a window, in the perfect place for me to leap into to prevent my capture. I thought of Fjella and Farmund being close enough to hear the chaos caused by the guard's attack. I thought of all the other countless times pure chance had saved my life.

And I realised that it had never been chance. All along, Nocturnal had been guiding me.

'The last thing you should know is what exactly it is that means the Nightingales have to protect the Twilight Sepulchre,' Dralsi told me. 'The Ebonmere, and therefore our link with Nocturnal, is extremely fragile and vulnerable. The only thing that keeps the conduit open is Nocturnal's sacred artefact, the Skeleton Key. It's a key that opens all locks, but it does more than that. It opens barriers within people.'

I blinked in confusion, shaking my head slightly. 'What do you mean?'

Dralsi frowned, her lips pursing thoughtfully. 'I'll try and put it another way,' she told me finally. 'I'm a Dunmer, correct?'

'I sincerely hope so, or my racial identification skills have been rather rusty for the last nine years,' I told her dryly.

Both my companions laughed. 'Don't worry. I'm definitely Dunmer,' Dralsi assured me. 'Now, you know that the bow is my favoured weapon. That's not usual for a Dark Elf. It's not rare, exactly, but it is unusual. Most of my kind prefer to become mages. It's in our blood; it's what we do best. You follow me?'

I nodded.

'Myself, I've never been able to get the hang of magic. I only know a handful of spells, and I never use them. It just doesn't come naturally to me. On the other hand, I picked up archery easily. As a Dark Elf, I still have the potential to be a mage, but that potential is locked away inside my mind. I've never really had to use it.'

At the sound of the word _locked, _it was as if a light had been turned on in my head. 'And if you possessed the Skeleton Key, that potential would be unlocked, and you could use magic as easily as you could a bow.'

'Precisely,' Blade confirmed, giving the _s _an especially long hiss. 'When the Key is in a mortal's possession, that mortal succeeds at almost everything they do. That is why so many seek to claim the Key. And it is also why we must defend it. It is a tempting prize, but if it were to be removed from the Sepulchre, the Ebonmere would close. All of Nirn's links with Nocturnal would be gone. The Guild's luck would run dry, and there would be no way for the Nightingale Sentinels to reach Evergloam.' He bent down and placed a hand on my shoulder, his bronze-coloured eyes drilling into my dark brown ones. 'Listen, Gallus, for this is the most important thing we shall tell you about our duties. _Do not let the Key be taken.'_

I nodded. Gods, what a fool I was. I thought I understood. I thought that the only people who would ever try to take the Skeleton Key would be robbers and bandits and brigands. Enemies that could be fought off with swords and daggers. Not once did I suspect that the true danger came from within. That the downfall of the Nightingales would be the Nightingales themselves. That the true enemy would be a friend.

At least… someone I thought was a friend.

'That's all you need to know for the present,' Dralsi told me. 'The rest can be explained after you've taken the Oath.'

'Are you ready?' Blade asked, straightening up once more.

I sucked in a deep, long breath, knowing that there was no going back now. This was when my life changed forever. But this was for my Guild and for my friends. This was the destiny that had been set out for me from the day of my birth. This was what I had been born for.

My time had come. There was no returning to safety and certainty. Doubt and danger lay ahead. But I did not fear to face them.

'I'm ready,' I said quietly.

'Then come with us,' Blade hissed softly.

They led me along a passage to where a wall of barbed spears blocked us from proceeding any further. Dralsi gave a chain hanging from the wall a sharp tug, and the gate slid downwards and out of sight. The Argonian and the Dunmer led me forwards into the chamber beyond, and my breath caught in my throat. We had emerged into a vast, dimly lit cavern, at least as tall and wide as the Cistern. Three small platforms and one larger one, all with the insignia of the Nightingales upon them, were connected by stone bridges. Below them, a pool of silver-black water shimmered and rippled. I gazed in undisguised awe.

Blade took up his position on the western platform, and Dralsi took the centre one. Seeing as this left only the eastern circle vacant, it was clear where I was supposed to stand. I slowly walked over the larger circle and across the bridge. As I reached the platform, Dralsi cast swift glances and Blade at I, nodded to herself, raised her arms, and called out in a resonating voice that filled the entire chamber.

'I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow… hear my voice!'

For a second that seemed to drag on for at least half a century, there was no response. I looked at Blade and Dralsi, worried that something had gone wrong, but they simply gazed expectantly at the centre of the chamber. The frozen moment remained unbroken for a second more, and then without warning it was shattered. The cavern darkened abruptly. A chill wind began to whip around me, ruffling my cloak and stirring the smooth surface of the water. Purple mists started to swirl around the centre platform, and I sensed that they shielded some invisible presence, some unseen entity. Suddenly, I felt as if the most burning eyes in all Tamriel were resting upon me, seeing right inside me and uncovering all my secrets. And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that Nocturnal had come.

Time seemed to stand still.

_Finally, I hear your call. _The voice, smooth and dangerous, was filled with so much raw power that it was difficult to listen without flinching. It echoed from every corner of the chamber, coming from nowhere and from everywhere at the same time. _Welcome, Dralsi Indoril, daughter of Drayven, and Draws-His-Blade of Black Marsh. And welcome to you also, stranger. I have been waiting for a third Nightingale to arise to take the place of your fallen comrade. For that is why you have come, is it not? _

Her voice did not sound welcoming. If anything, she seemed indifferent. I struggled to reply- what do you say to an entity from Oblivion?- but luckily, Dralsi came to my rescue.

'This is Gallus Desidenius, my Lady. A former brother and protégé of mine when I served with the Thieves Guild.' Dralsi extended a hand towards me. 'Though he is young, his mind, his heart and his arm are all strong. He understand the terms of your contract and the importance of keeping to them. He is ready and willing to take the Oath; to pledge his service to you in both life and death.'

_Ah, yes. Of course. Gallus Desidenius. Son of Iratus and Perdita. _The feeling that I was being stared at intensified tenfold. _I have been watching you for many years, mortal. Your ways have intrigued me. A thief but also a scholar; a rebel but also a warrior. How do I know for certain that you can offer me your full commitment?_

I swallowed, and forced myself to speak. 'There are few things in this world that I hate, my Lady, but one thing I do loathe above all else is betrayal. I came here to make this Oath to you, and I am more than willing to do so. If I ever break it, then I will rightly deserve whatever punishment you deem fit to give to me. And Dralsi and Blade tell me that the work of the Nightingales is what keeps the Thieves Guild safe. I've been in the Guild for more than half my life, and it's become my entire world. I would rather die than allow any harm to come to them.'

_There is no lie in your eyes, nor in your words. _Nocturnal sounded almost appraising, but I wasn't certain, so I did not allow myself to feel any relief before I was certain that she had accepted me. _There are very few mortals in this world who are worthy of the title of Nightingale, Gallus Desidenius. There are few who have the wisdom, the patience, the loyalty and the skill. Over the years, I have watched you. You are wise… for a mortal. You know how to wait for your rewards. You pour your very soul into everything you do. You have talent like few others. _The mists shifted and swirled. _You are worthy. I always knew that you would be. I merely hope you do not prove me wrong._

I felt myself smiling at her praise - such as it was - despite my fear. The invisible gaze of the Daedric Prince seemed to turn from me, and I knew that it was now my companions who fell under it. _It is not only Gallus who must make a promise to me now. Dralsi Indoril and Draws-His-Blade, __have you made certain that your companion understands the terms of this agreement?_

'We have,' Dralsi affirmed, dipping her head slightly. Blade echoed her.

_Do you swear to offer him any help and guidance that he requires as he embarks on the path of the Nightingale?_

'We do,' they replied. Her voice was a soft murmur, his a low hiss.

_And are you prepared to guard your fellow Nightingale with every ounce of strength that you possess, and, should the need arise, to give your lives in order to save his?_

'We are.' There was not a trace of hesitation in either of their replies, and I felt my heart swell. I still did not feel quite worthy of the trust and dedication they were pledging to me.

Nocturnal's unseen eyes were suddenly scorching into me again, and I shuddered before I could stop myself. It was terrifying, to know that I was the sole focus of attention of one of the most powerful begins in my entire world. _Your fellow Nightingales have confirmed their allegiance, both to you and to me. The time has come for you to undertake your own. There is no turning back from here. _

'I'm ready,' I told her, and suddenly I knew that I was. Everything I had done in my life this far had been for the sake of this single moment.

_Do you swear to defend with your life the Twilight Sepulchre and the treasure it contains, as well as the secret of your existence, no matter what might befall you?_

I had no qualms about that. Dralsi and Blade had told me about the importance of making sure that nothing and nobody could penetrate the Sepulchre. And I knew that secrecy was everything to us. And so I nodded. 'I do.'

_And do you vow to protect the lives of your fellow Nightingales with all of your strength and honour, and, if necessary, your blood?_

Again, I did not hesitate. I would have followed Blade and Dralsi into the depths of Oblivion. 'I do,' I promised.

_And do you accept that from this moment forth your life is bound to mine, and that in both this world and the next, you must defend my sanctuary and the Skeleton Key- whatever the cost?_

Whatever the cost. Three words, and yet they would determine my destiny, decide my fate. They would be the words that tore me apart from the two people I cared about more than anything else. They would be the words that destroyed my entire life. They would be the words that caused my death.

But I did not know how. Gods, how could I have known? What reason would I have to even suspect that such a thing would ever happen?

I often look back on my foolishness then, and weep. But I was only a boy. I still did not truly understand what great and terrible parts love and hatred and betrayal can play in the lives of both mortals and Daedra. I could not have known. I can forgive myself. But I cannot forget what those words , that hastily made promise, did to me. Nor can I forget what they did to Mercer. And never can I forget what they did to Karliah. My beloved Karliah.

Why is it that the innocent must so often suffer for the foolishness of the guilty?

'I do.' That was the reply I gave, and at the time, I meant every word.

I did not know what the future would bring. Why should I have known?

_Then, Gallus Desidenius, I name you Nightingale._

A wave of pure excitement crashed over me. I was a Nightingale now. Bound to Nocturnal, to the Twilight Sepulchre, to my fellow Nightingales, to the Guild, to the Skeleton Key. I had taken my Oath and made my vow. From this moment forth, everything was going to change.

The mists swirled more rapidly. _Your life is eternally pledged to me, _Nocturnal told me, every word laden with warning. _The Oath is struck, and your fate awaits you in Evergloam. _There was a brief silence, then she continued. _I shall duly reward what you give to me, mortal. Courage and loyalty with luck, wealth and success. Failure and treachery with punishment and death._

I did not doubt her word. I knew that the Daedra knew no mercy.

The mists began to churn around each other more rapidly still, and the warped patch of air that hid the Dark Lady from our view seemed to expand. _Sereniel of Valenwood lies dead, but her soul has passed to my temple, _Nocturnal announced. _And the days shall come when her years of devoted service are rewarded at last. For now, here on Nirn, the position she left empty upon her death has been filled. Return, Nightingales. Return to your Guild. Return so that you might be ready to come back to this place when danger threatens it. Your Oaths may be over, but your work, your duty, and your story, has only just begun._

The mists glistened, faded, and died. The distorted air shimmered back into normality. The darkness returned to light, the cold air warmed, and within seconds, Nocturnal was gone. All that was left were her parting words.

_Fair fortune, Nightingales. Eyes open. Walk with the shadows._

And then she was gone. Dralsi, Blade and I stood together, our black capes rustling slightly in the last few breaths of the icy breeze.

I looked at them, and I knew that everything in my life had changed forever. I had pledged my soul to a Daedric lord, and there would be no reclaiming it. For better or worse, for good or for bad, I had embarked on a road from which there was no return. Nocturnal had spoken truly- there was no going back.

My old self lay behind me, and my new life had begun.

* * *

**Finally, Gallus! Took you long enough! So, he's a Nightingale at last. Makes me wonder, though... how did Blade manage to get that mask on? ;)**

**I have a question of all you readers... it concerns the fates of Farmund, Fjella and Sranys. I personally have had enough of getting rid of characters, and I expect you guys have too. However, it'll be hard for me to keep these three, as none of them appeared in Indigo Nightingale. So, do you guys want me to a) Keep them in the Guild for as long as possible but have them leave before Karliah's arrival, or b) Let them stay for longer and edit a few chapters of Indigo Nightingale to give them parts? Please respond- I really need answers, hopefully before the next chapter. Thanks!**

**Ok, so that's it from me. Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Your support means a lot to me. Until next chapter, folks!**


	19. Friends

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

_15__th__ of Frostfall_

_Two years. Can it really be two years? It's hard to believe that such a long time can have passed since I was given the responsibilities I have today. I take it for granted now, the power that I have… but it doesn't make it seem any less unlikely. _

_Sometimes I have to actually glance down at the black leather armour that confirms my position before I can actually believe it. Eighteen years old and second in command of the Thieves Guild. Who would have thought it? Certainly not me. When Blade said all that time ago that as the third Nightingale and one of our most experiences members, it was only right that I were offered the position of deputy, I thought for a moment that he was laughing at me, that he was joking. But he was quite serious. And when I thought about it, I realised he was right. Maybe it's true, what Sereniel told me the day she died. Maybe Guild siblings really do trust me to listen to them. Maybe I am a born leader. I don't know. What I do know is that all the older members had either less experience or simply did not want the responsibility. Farmund, Fjella, Ahsla, Elandine, Sranys… I can't see any of them leading the Guild one day. But when I consider the fact that one day I may have to take Blade's place… well, I'm nervous, but not exactly scared. I know that I can do it, if I need to. I can lead this Guild. I can become a Guildmaster._

_All the same, I hope it doesn't come to that any time soon. Blade's a great leader, and I still have much to learn. Having only just reached proper manhood, I'd rather not take on such power and responsibility just yet. I still feel like a newcomer to the Guild sometimes._

_And then, of course, there's the other change in my life as well, the other duty I have to deal with. I am a Nightingale now, an agent of Nocturnal. I've only had to defend the Twilight Sepulchre a couple of times since the making of my Oath, but I've already gained a few scars from it, and I've begun to appreciate just how much this status will change my life. Not to mention my death. I sometimes try to imagine what it will be like in Evergloam... more often, though, I think about Sereniel, and I hope that she won't have to remain guarding the Sepulchre for long. She deserves her reward._

_The thing is, I feel far more used to being a Nightingale than I do to being Second. But then, I knew that one day that would be my fate. I'd been expecting it since Dralsi, Blade and Sereniel promised it to me when I was eight years old. Gods above, it staggers belief when I think about just how long I've been in the Guild for now. Ten long years… ten happy years. Ten years where my life has been near perfect. _

_Of course, I miss everyone we've lost. Thinking about Gurak and Orthwin and Silent and Sabinus and Sereniel saddens me beyond belief, but we have gained people, too. We have Mercer, and I am more grateful than can be imagined for that. We have Delvin, and he's an immensely valuable asset to us. And our most recent recruit is shaping up nicely, too. I can see him right now, practising archery under Sranys's guidance. When you look at Elruen, it's easy to see that he's Sereniel's nephew. He's got her red hair and green eyes and skill with the bow. Hah, and he's got her feistiness too. Sometimes I think that the only difference is that he's male and left-handed. It's good to have him with us. It reminds me that Sereniel will never truly be gone. She lives on in Elruen, who shares her blood, and in the Sepulchre, where she fulfils the terms of her Oath as a guardian of the Skeleton Key._

_There's little work that needs doing today. I'd go and challenge Mercer to another card game, but he's still doing that job in Winterhold. Sranys asked if I would give Elruen a lesson on dagger combat at some point, but I'll leave that for later. For now, I've better things to do. Azhanri's caravan should have arrived by now, and I've got that moon sugar to deliver that we promised them. I'd better get going. Here in the Thieves Guild, there's always work to be done._

* * *

'Clothes, food and weapons! All are for sale, and all can be yours!'

'Come, all that you can see you can buy!'

'Whatever you seek, we can supply it for you!'

I smiled to myself as I heard the familiar voices floating towards me on the breeze. Pushing through the crowd, I was soon able to pick out the familiar faces of Azhanri and the others. It was always good to see them when they visited Riften. No matter how many years passed, I would never forget that they had saved my life. Nor would I stop owing them for it.

Azhanri was busy dealing with a group of customers, so I ducked past a few merchants to make my way over to Zhevani. 'This one has your moon sugar,' I told her in Ta'agra. 'Fresh, and of the finest quality, just like you wanted it.'

The Khajiit beamed at me. 'My utmost thanks to you, Jo'dar. We were much in need of this.'

I felt my smile widening. Jo'dar was the nickname that the caravan had given to me. _Jo _meant either a wizard or a scholar- in my case, the latter- and _dar _was a thief. Scholar-thief. The name suited me, and I was honoured that they called me it.

Zhevani took the parcel of moon sugar and tossed it over her daughter, Tsumata, who was younger than me by a few years but already displaying a shrewd head for business. The Khajiit girl caught it neatly and ran off to deliver it to Azhanri.

'So, what news from the rest of Skyrim?' I asked Zhevani, raising my eyebrows.

'Oh, little that you will not have heard already. Threats of war and all the rest. Nothing to trouble you, nor anything to trouble us. How is life as the deputy of the Thieves Guild?'

'Exhausting,' I told her truthfully, and we both laughed. 'It's hard to keep that rabble under control, but not impossible, once you know how.'

Zhevani smiled. 'This one was wondering. Are you currently on the lookout for new members?'

A little surprised, I nodded. 'We always are.'

'Then Zhevani has some people she would like to introduce you to.'

She led me to where the caravan's wagon had been parked. A pair of Khajiit- both strangers to me- were unloading crates, sacks and boxes from the other side, squabbling ferociously as they did so.

'Don't be ridiculous, brother. Riften cannot be worse than Bravil.'

'Ah, but in Bravil, we knew our way around, did we not? Riften shall be a strange place to us.'

'They say that the guards here never arrest thieves. Is that not a blessing?'

'We should never give them any reason to wish to arrest us. A true thief should never be seen.'

'Well, knowing your clumsiness, this one would call that very hypocritical.'

'For one thing, you can cut out the fancy words, and for a second, my stealth skills are twice as good as yours.'

'Liar.'

'Idiot.'

'Fluff-brain.'

'Butterfingers.'

'Hypocrite.'

The words flew so quickly between them that it was a struggle to make them out. Zhevani chuckled and rolled her eyes. 'Brothers, if you will stop arguing for a single second, Zhevani has someone here she would like you to meet.'

The two Khajiit spun around instantly, their green eyes alight with interest. 'Aha! So this is the one you spoke of,' the one on the left proclaimed.

'He doesn't look old enough to be second in command of anything,' the one on the right snorted.

'Manners, brother. He may not accept us if you are rude to him.'

'He shouldn't accept us at all if he can't take a little criticism.'

'Enough, already!' Zhevani shouted, and they lapsed into silence. 'Gallus, allow this one to introduce you to her younger brothers. This one is Ma'rhaz, and this one is Ma'zha.'

The one on the right let out an indignant snort. 'No, this one's name is Dar'zha. He is no longer a child and should not be addressed as such.'

'It makes little difference, brother. Ma'rhaz does not mind being known as Ma'rhaz.'

'It makes a difference to Dar'zha. This one is a thief, and not a kitten.'

I found myself grinning. The two were clearly identical twins- they both had the same charcoal-coloured fur with jet black stripes, the same spiky mohawks, and the same bright green eyes. As far as I could see, the only scrap of difference between them was that Ma'rhaz was wearing a silver ring in his left ear, while Dar'zha wore one on his right ear.

'Very well, this is Ma'rhaz and Dar'zha,' Zhevani consented. 'They came to join our caravan from Bravil a little while ago, but once they heard of your Guild, they decided they would like to join.'

'We would indeed. Ma'rhaz is sure that you would find our skills invaluable.'

'Dar'zha agrees. After all, we have skills in sneaking, pickpocketing, and lockpicking-'

'-Not to mention tracking, agility, and daggers,' Ma'rhaz added quickly.

'And as traders, we know how to make money.'

'And as thieves, we know how to steal.'

'And most of all, we know how to cause trouble!'

They both laughed, and I knew instantly that as long as they truly possessed the skills they claimed to, there would be a place for them in the Guild for certain. They were likable and quick-witted – both important skills to have in our strange little family- and what was more, they were Khajiit. That meant they would have a natural talent for stealth. I knew that I would be more than happy to have Dar'zha and Ma'rhaz as my brothers in crime.

'I'll take you to meet our Guildmaster,' I told them. 'I can't promise that you'll be accepted, but I'm fairly certain you can join. I know that I would recruit you were it my choice.'

The twins glanced excitedly at each other. 'Take us to your leader, friend!' Dar'zha laughed, slapping his brother on the back with such force he was nearly knocked off his feet.

'Farewell for the present, sister.' Ma'rhaz gave Zhevani a quick hug. 'Take care of little Tsumata. Watch out for wolves on the road. And be careful not to sell the moon sugar for too high a price, you'll get no buyers, and-'

'Brother, do not worry yourself.' Zhevani smiled at him. 'All will be well with us, even without you. This one wishes you luck in your new life.' She turned to me, her voice suddenly serious. 'Take care of them, Jo'dar.'

I nodded. 'I will. Don't worry.'

'We don't need taking care of. We can look after ourselves.'

Ma'rhaz thumped his twin on the arm. 'Don't be rude, brother.'

'Dar'zha wasn't being rude, he was being truthful. Come on – the last one to the city gate is a skeever!'

They both turned around and raced away. I nodded at Zhevani and dashed after them. I knew that it would be a challenge to get the guards to allow them through the city gates, but somehow I would manage. After all, I wasn't going to allow an idiotic piece of racism make me miss a chance to gain a fine pair of new brothers.

* * *

_16__th__ of Frostfall_

_I can barely believe my good fortune. Something wonderful has happened, something that I never saw coming for a moment._

_Yesterday, Zhevani from the Khajiit caravan introduced me to her two younger brothers, the identical twins Dar'zha and Ma'rhaz. They're a lively pair, constantly smiling and joking and messing around. They sought to join the Guild, so – after a brief argument with the guard on duty about Khajiit merchants not being permitted past the city gates, which was easily sorted out once I threatened to tell the Black-Briars about his moon sugar addiction – I brought them into the Flagon. After they demonstrated their skills to us, Blade was most impressed, and readily gave them both a place among our number._

_But like all new recruits, they needed training. And Mercer and I were chosen for that honour._

_It's hard to believe, even though everyone keeps telling me that it's long overdue. To have a protégé of my own, to know that Blade trusts me that much… it makes my heart sing with pride and joy. I was given Ma'rhaz to mentor (which I'm actually quite pleased about, since he seems to be the calmer of the two, if only by a little) and Dar'zha is Mercer's apprentice - or rather, he will be. Mercer hasn't found out yet, since he's still up in Winterhold. When he gets back, which shouldn't take much longer, I can't wait to break the news to him. Still, he's going to have his hands full. The twins seem to be a pair of furry bundles of energy- they never stop moving, and they never stop talking. It's hard to tell the difference between them, too. Ah, well, I daresay we'll get used to them. They're valuable additions to our family._

_It seems like everything has started to go right for the Guild again. We've borne the scars of Sereniel's death for too long. Now, we finally seem to be moving past the wounds. With any luck, we should soon be able to –_

The sound of the trapdoor entrance being flung open disturbed me, and I glanced up from my page, setting my quill aside. I leaped up with a gasp a moment later as Mercer half climbed, half fell down the ladder and collapsed on the ground at the base of the wall. His Guild armour was covered in scorch marks, and his hair was singed. His face was streaked with blood. For a few seconds, the Guild stared at him in stunned silence. Then he himself broke the quiet by letting loose a string of some of the most colourful curses I had ever heard, and the world seemed to jerk into movement again.

'Mercer!' I cried, running forwards, my eyes wide. 'What happened?'

The Breton spat onto the ground. 'Winterhold,' he muttered, gripping the wall to pull himself to his feet. 'Gods-damned mages…'

I grabbed his arm and helped him over to the nearest bed, which he sat down on with a thump. 'It was my fault,' he admitted ruefully through gritted teeth, as Elandine ran over to him with a healing spell at the ready. 'Should have guessed they'd have enchantments on their valuable to try and stop people stealing them. Tried to grab a gemstone and got a load of lightning in my face. Next thing I knew, I was being chased from the place by a bunch of flame atronachs.'

'Idiot. Mages know how to protect their things,' Elandine snapped. 'You're lucky to be here and not in pieces. Or inside a soul gem. Or being used as target practice for the novice spellcasters.' She opened her palms, and golden tendrils of light began weaving around Mercer's body. 'You've only got yourself to blame.'

Mercer's eyes narrowed. 'How reassuring it is to know that I'll always receive sympathy when I'm injured,' he growled, and I couldn't help sniggering as I remembered how I'd said something very similar to him when I'd been wounded two years previously.

The High Elf gave no reply, continuing to cast her magic on the Breton until the last of the burn marks were gone. 'There we are. You'll live,' she announced, stepping back. 'You've gained some pretty scars, but the only other thing that's been injured is your pride. And serve you right.'

Blade, watching from a distance, let out a quiet hiss. 'I don't like this. Not one bit. An attempted theft isn't punishable by death. It's a fine at most. The mages of Winterhold acted outside of the law by trying to kill you.'

'It hardly matters now, does it?' Elandine snorted.

'Yes. It does.' The Argonian folded his arms. 'I do not want them to think that they can mess with the Thieves Guild and get away with it.'

Mercer grunted. 'And how are you going to prove that they can't without being filled with ice spikes, huh?'

Blade's copper eyes flashed, and I could see that he didn't like Mercer's tone. I shot a warning glance at my friend before turning to the Guildmaster. 'I could go to Winterhold, Blade.'

He blinked. 'You? Are you sure?'

I nodded. 'Of course. I'll be careful. I'll just take a look around, take anything that looks valuable, and make sure they know that the Thieves Guild can strike at any time.'

The Argonian shook his head worriedly. 'No, Gallus, you can't. It's too dangerous. Mercer could have been killed, and so could you be.'

I am never one to give way once I have made up my mind. In truth, anger was smouldering within me, anger at the mages who had injured my friend. How dare they try to hurt Mercer? To be sure, he had been stealing from them, but why try to kill him? 'We need to make sure they know that the Thieves Guild are not a pushover, Blade. It might damage our reputation, and that could be fatal for us. Let me go. I won't let anything happen.'

The Guildmaster looked at me for a few seconds more, considering, then nodded. 'Very well. But take every precaution, and no unnecessary risks. If you aren't back in two days' time, I'll be sending someone after you.'

I nodded. 'I'll be back before then. I'll just send them the message they need, and get back here.'

Blade looked at me seriously. 'Take care of yourself, Gallus. Those mages are powerful, and I've no wish to be choosing a new Second before the day's out.'

'You won't be,' I promised.

The Argonian let out a quiet hiss. 'I hope not. Few who die ever plan to join their ancestors that day.'

I left a little while afterwards, his words still ringing in my ears. In truth, at the time, I did not fully understand what he meant.

Now… now, I do.

I think I am one of the few who knew that their death would come on the day that they died.

I hope and pray that you shall never know that pain.

* * *

Quietly, quickly, my movements soft and fast, I dropped lightly down from the window ledge and into the room. Dusting snowflakes from my armour, I took a quick glance around to make sure that the small chamber was deserted. It was. Hurriedly, I pulled shut the window I'd broken in through and started to take stock of my surroundings.

I was in a laboratory, or a study of some kind. There was an alchemy lab pushed up against the wall, with an arcane enchanter beside it. Soul gems and books lined the shelves. There was a desk nearby, littered with papers and scrolls of parchment. A few magic staffs leaned against the walls, and there was a chest underneath the desk. It was locked, but that was easily dealt with. All it took was a few twists of a lockpick, and I was able to open the lid. But I needn't have wasted my time – all it contained were a few spell tomes, scrolls, soul gems and alchemy ingredients.

I shut the chest as quietly as I could and quickly began sifting through the papers on the desk, in search of anything remotely valuable. It was no disaster if there was nothing worth stealing in this room, I could simply move on to the next one. The only problem was that I had no idea what was behind the door. It could lead into a room filled with people, and naturally, walking right into the hands of the College mages was not an idea that appealed to me. No, I needed to be like lightning- strike hard and fast, and then disappear again, leaving chaos in my wake. I needed to show these mages that my Guild was not to be messed with. I thought of Mercer limping into the Cistern, burned and bleeding, and hardened my heart.

I pushed aside a couple of books –one, I noted with amusement, was the faulty copy of _Racial Phylogeny - _and something caught my eye. A page of sketches. Despite knowing that I had to clear the room of valuables and move on as fast as possible, I could help picking up the piece of parchment, flattening it out on the desk and examining it. The artist had drawn detailed figures of a human, an elf, a Khajiit and an Argonian, and the numerous annotations around the edges pointed out the various differences in their biology. Instantly, the scholar side of me replaced the thief, and I bent down so as to see better. Whoever had drawn the sketches had known what they were doing. I couldn't see a single inaccuracy.

Now that my curiosity was piqued, I couldn't resist searching the rest of the mage's work. He or she seemed to be studying the biological structure of the different races of Tamriel, and trying to work out how their biology was related to the fact that some races had more inborn magical talent than others. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I agreed with everything that he said in his research notes. 'Fascinating,' I murmured, browsing a scroll that pointed out the differences between the magical abilities of Altmer and Dunmer. 'I never knew how different their innate abilities were so different. Perhaps I should ask Elandine about it later.'

I paused, toying with an attractive idea. Blade had never specifically said that I had to steal anything valuable. I was just meant to send the College mages a message. What would be the harm in taking these research notes? To be sure, I'd feel extremely guilty about the mage who wrote them. He would have to begin his work again. But if I were to take them and carve the Guild symbol into the desk, it would make a powerful statement. The College would know that we were not to be trifled with, and I would have a handful of extremely interesting scrolls and books to read. It was definitely a nice thought, but was my eagerness to accomplish this mission and read these notes properly stronger than my sympathy for their writer?

Who knows what I would have eventually chosen to do, but a moment later I was spared the decision. While I was staring thoughtfully at the papers, the door to the room suddenly swung open. I heard footsteps enter, and then suddenly freeze.

Resisting the urge to swear, I turned my head. A male Wood Elf was standing in the doorway, one hand still on the door, staring at me in blank shock. He wore the blue and grey robes of most graduated College members, which meant he was a teacher of some sort, not a student. He also wore an expression of mixed perplexity, alarm, and anger. If I had still been in my thief frame of mind I would have leaped for the window there and then, but the scholar within me had well and truly taken me over.

I could see the Bosmer opening his mouth to call for assistance, but before he could, I picked up the book lying on his desk and help it up. 'I see you've got a copy of _Notes on Racial Phylogeny and Biology, Seventh Edition,' _I told him casually. 'An extremely informative and interesting read, though personally I disagree with what the author says in chapter nine, in the section about the Khajiit biology. The Cathay form of Khajiit is far more likely to occur during a waxing Masser and a full Secunda, not when Masser is waning- though of course, it may simply be a printing error.'

I waited for his response, knowing that I might well have to run for my life at any moment. The elf stared at me for a few seconds more, looking utterly baffled, then shook himself and took a tentative step forward. 'Um. Right. So... what's your opinion on the section on the Argonian immune system, where it says that Argonians are completely immune to disease?' he asked, raising his eyebrows. 'I've always been dubious about that.'

Delighted, I smiled broadly at him. 'Oh, they're by no means completely immune, though they are a lot more resistant than other races.' I shrugged slightly. 'You should read _An In-Depth Study of Racial Traits and Characteristics. _It contains a careful examination of all the races and their different abilities. I'm afraid this particular edition of _Racial Phylogeny _is riddled with mistakes, and it might not be much help to you. If you're studying inborn magical talent, then you might want to consider purchasing a newer edition.' I tossed the book back onto the desk.

The Bosmer frowned. 'I'll have to go down to the Arcaneum later, then. I can't afford to make any mistakes on this project.' He looked at me, and I could see his surprise and his confusion battling with his obvious desire to ask me more. 'So, do you have any opinions on innate magic?'

I chuckled. 'I can't be of much help, I'm afraid. I can't cast spells to save my life. What I can tell you is that it's said that when Magnus departed into Aurbis at the dawn of time, he left a tear in Aetherius. What's left of him on Mundus can be felt and controlled through this tear by mortals as magic. Elven blood is supposedly more in tune with this energy that that of other races, but to be honest, that could be just a myth. I've read countless books on the subject and never received a straight answer.'

The Wood Elf took another step towards me. 'Well, you seem pretty knowledgeable to me.' He turned and shut the door to the laboratory. 'Tell you what. If you lend a hand with my research project, I'll neglect to notice the fact that you've broken into my study.'

I held out my hand to him. 'That sounds like a fair deal to me, my friend. By the way, the name's Desidenius. Gallus Desidenius.'

He warily took my hand. 'Enthir,' he told me.

'It's a pleasure, Enthir,' I told him, and I meant it. 'Now, what did you need help with?'

He rummaged through his papers and unearthed a piece of parchment covered in complex-looking calculations. 'I graduated fairly recently, at the Archmage has asked me to try and work out whether he needs to adapt the enchantments on the College robes to make sure that the magicka regeneration properties are the same for every race. Because magicka regenerates faster or slower naturally for some races, I'm trying to work out a mathematical formula that will explain the balance between magicka replenishment and certain racial characteristics of every race. That way, item enchantments can be altered to work the same way for all of our students, no matter what race they are. That way, the students that are members of naturally magically skilled races like Bretons and Altmer won't be more capable than those that come from less magically adept races, like Orcs or Khajiit, because they'll all have the same magicka regeneration speed. You follow me?'

I blinked and ran a hand through my hair, trying to work out what he'd said. 'Not really, to be honest,' I admitted, 'but I think I've understood enough to be able to lend a hand with working out these formulas.' I spread out the scroll and weighted down the ends with books. 'What's this first one?'

Enthir leaned over my shoulder. 'It's a formula for the relationship between the normal amount of magicka for a High Elf and how fast it regenerates. I've been trying to get it to work for about a week now, but I can't, and I'm not sure what I've done wrong.'

I swept my eyes over it. 'I don't know much about magic, but I can tell you that ten multiplied by two hundred is definitely not fourteen thousand.'

Enthir frowned. 'What? Where does it say that?'

I pointed. 'I think maybe you mistook that one for a seven.'

The Wood Elf stared, then grabbed a quill and started scribbling on the parchment. 'Damn it, you're right. How in the name of Oblivion didn't I see that before?'

'Overworked, I daresay,' I told him, glancing around the disorganized laboratory.

'Too true, I'm afraid.' The Bosmer gave me a lopsided grin. 'Thanks for your help. Gods only know if I'd have noticed that myself.'

I smiled. 'Glad to be of service. Is there anything else you need help with?'

'No, I think that's the lot. Now I've got that figured, I can get this done in a few hours.' He put down his quill and turned to face me. 'I don't think I can thank you enough. It's always the elementary mistakes that get the better of you, isn't it?'

I laughed, remembering all the times I'd had to give up a job because I'd forgotten to take any lockpicks with me. 'You can say that again. And there's no need to thank me. Just think of it as a favour for a fellow scholar.'

Enthir looked at me curiously. 'Judging by the armour, I'd say you were with the Thieves Guild. How on Nirn can you be smart enough to be able to point out the mistakes in _Racial Phylogeny?'_

'Who says a thief must be a fool?' I asked, raising my eyebrows. 'I was brought up as a scholar, but I'm afraid that I've always felt a lot more comfortable breaking in through a window than bent over musty old tomes. I could have chosen an honest life had I wanted to, but to tell the truth, it would have been far too boring for me.'

Enthir grinned again. 'I reckon I can empathise with that.'

I glanced out of the window. 'It's getting late. I should probably start returning home. Could I possibly ask a small favour of you before I do?'

The Bosmer snorted in amusement. 'Way I see it, you're in a quite a good position to be asking small favours of me.'

I placed my hands on my hips. 'Do you remember the Breton from my Guild that broke into the college fairly recently?'

Enthir nodded slowly. 'He left rather quicker than he intended.'

I pressed my hands together. 'When I arrive home, I'll be making sure my Guildmaster doesn't send any more of us out here. Least I can do to thank you for not turning me over to the guards, really. But if any of my colleagues ever do turn up, do you think you could maybe ask your fellow mages not to try and kill them? You see, the Breton you nearly burned to a crisp is my best friend, and even if he does drive me round the bend, he's not bad really, and I'd prefer for him to stay in one piece. Plus, I can't beat him at cards if he's been torn to shreds by angry atronachs.'

The Wood Elf laughed. 'Your friend was robbing the Archmage's personal soul gem collection. He's very protective of his black soul gems, they're pretty hard to come by. But sure, I'll have a word with him.'

'My thanks.' I dipped my head. 'Well, I'd best be off. Good luck with your project.'

'Thanks. And, um, Gallus…' Enthir called my name as I turned to pull myself up onto the window ledge, and I spun quickly around to look at him. 'Here in the College, I've earned myself a bit of a reputation for being an elf who knows how to get things. If you're ever up in Winterhold, and you find ridding yourself of stolen goods becoming a burden, feel free to stop by.'

My smile widened further. 'I'm much obliged to you, Enthir. I've a feeling I'll be taking you up on that offer before very long.' I jumped up onto the windowledge and prepared to jump back down into the courtyard. I hated scaling buildings- for some reason I just couldn't get the hang of it, despite my skill in climbing trees- but practice made perfect. 'Farewell for now.'

'Safe travels,' I heard him call, as I dropped down out of sight.

I was still smiling as I left the town, and I continued to smile as I leaped onto Ebony's back and turned her towards Riften. I had helped to safeguard the safety of the Guild. I had acquired a new fence. And best of all, I had found a friend.

All in all, it was a fine day's work.

* * *

Night was well and truly drawing in. I was tired, as was to be expected after a long and tedious journey from Riften to Winterhold, and a difficult climb up the walls of the College. Looking up at the steadily rising moons and darkening sky, I decided to carry on for a few more minutes before stopping to make camp. Just so long as I was back before Blade's two-day limit, it wouldn't matter how long I took. I'd have to find a sheltered space away from the road, though, to lessen the risk of being attacked by predators while I slept.

I soon found the perfect place to pitch camp – a small clearing surrounded by boulders and loose stones that it would be impossible for any animal to climb over without making enough sound to alert me. I was a fairly light sleeper when out in the open like this, and with any luck I would be awakened before anything could happen to me. I tethered Ebony to a tree nearby, with a loose knot. That way, if we were attacked, she would be able to break free and run if she needed to. I cleared aside as much snow as I could and started searching through Ebony's saddlebags to find my tent.

As I did so, a sound ripped through the night, and my brow furrowed. It was a roar, the roar of some kind of wild animal. More disturbingly, it was a roar I recognised as a hunting cry. There was something – or maybe someone – nearby that was being attacked.

For a few moments, I hesitated. It was nothing to do with me, after all, and there was no reason for me to risk my life in such a way. But, then again… if there was another mortal in danger, surely I had a duty to help?

I dithered for a couple more seconds, before turning and hurrying away towards the source of the noise. As I ran through the half-melted snow, sending up sprays of white water, I hear the roaring again, louder this time. It was coming from the road. And suddenly, a new sound floated towards me on the breeze- the unmistakable sound of someone drawing a sword from its sheath.

My pace quickened, and in moments I was standing at the top of the rise, staring down at the scene below me with wide eyes.

At the bottom of the slope, in the centre of the road, a sabre cat was rearing on its hind legs, its razor sharp claws tearing at the air, its furious bellowing shaking the forest to its roots. It lunged, swiping out with its claws, narrowly missing its attacker- a Nord, clad in simple but tough-looking iron armour, holding a vast steel greatsword that shone in the fading light. As I watched, the Nord stepped forwards and lashed out, opening up a cut on the beast's leg. Blood sprayed through the air and dripped down the sandy brown fur. The sabre cat bared its teeth in a snarl and drew back a pace. It crouched down, and its muscles bunched. I knew what was going to happen before it did, and within a heartbeat my sword was drawn and I was racing down the slope towards the battle.

The sabre cat leaped, smashing into its enemy at full force. The Nord was thrown backwards and down, crashing heavily onto the ground in an explosion of mud and dust. The sabre cat was on top in a single bound, pinning its foe to the ground, its massive claws scraping along the iron armour. It drew back its head, ready to give the killing bite to the neck that would end the battle, along with the Nord's life- but before it could, I was there. My heart racing, I half scrambled, half slid down the slope towards them, and as I reached the combatants I lifted my sword above my head with both hands and brought it down with all my strength. It sliced into the sabre cat's neck, and the creature let out a furious, agonised howl. It reared up, blood falling like rain from the gaping wound in its neck, wrenching my sword from my grasp. The Nord was on his feet in a moment, snatching up his fallen weapon and sweeping it at the beast's unprotected stomach, opening up a wide slash. The animal let out a howl that was suddenly cut short, and slumped to the ground, where it lay in a quickly-growing pool of its own blood.

Before I could even reach down to retrieve my sword, another snarl split the air. A second of the beasts was breaking through the undergrowth towards us, and a third was right behind it. The Nord sprang forwards without hesitation, and I yanked my blade from the dead cat and crouched in readiness. I held my sword up in front of me as one of the creatures came towards me, its fangs bared. I leaped to the side and slashed with all my strength at its neck, hoping to slice open its throat. I missed my target by mere inches, and the tip of my sword sailed harmlessly through the thick dappled fur. I quickly jumped backwards, knowing that the beast would use the opportunity to strike, as indeed it did a moment later. Had I not moved, it would most likely have torn open my chest. Gritting my teeth, I readied myself as it prepared to lunge again. As it lurched towards me, I allowed my mind to slip back to the Cistern, to yet another lesson with Blade. That was all this was, just one more training session. No need to be afraid.

The sabre cat's teeth snapped shut on thin air an inch in front of me. Without hesitation, I brought up my foot and kicked it with everything I had on the side of its head. It recoiled with a stunned snarl, its eyes dazed, and in that split second of opportunity I made my move. My left hand grabbed hold of the bushy, matted fur between its ears and wrenched its head backwards, exposing the throat, where I knew that life bubbled close to the surface. My blade flashed forward and sunk into that tiny weak spot, slicing through fur, flesh, blood and bone. I withdrew my blade as I felt the creature go limp, and it crumpled onto the earth.

I looked up in time to see the final sabre cat leaping at the stranger. The Nord stood firm, almost as if he were rooted in the ground, his body poised and ready and his sword held up in front of him. The beast realised in mid-leap that it had made a mistake, but by that time, of course, it was far too late, because it was no longer jumping at its prey but at the blade of a sword. Inevitably, it impaled itself on the weapon, with such force that the sword went right through the limp body until the tip poked out of its back. The Nord stepped back and shook the body from the blade, and it thumped onto the ground to join its fallen comrades.

I and the stranger sheathed our swords together, and turned to look at each other. The Nord reached up and removed his iron helmet, revealing - to my surprise - that he was, in fact, a she.

'My thanks, friend,' she said, in a thick Nordic accent. 'I may not have survived that if not for your help.'

'Don't mention it,' I told her. 'Glad to be of service.'

She dipped her head to me, and I sensed that she was about to speak, but before she could, I interrupted her.

I interrupted her, because as she lowered her head, I saw it.

Hanging around her neck on a length of thread. Easy to overlook. Small, white and polished.

The tooth of a sabre cat.

And I looked at the single white fang, and I looked at the Nord woman, and I looked at her golden hair and sky-blue eyes, and before I could think twice about it, the realisation smashed into me like a blow from a bear's paw, and without warning, the name was breaking from my throat.

'Henja!'

* * *

**You guys have no idea how long I've been looking forward to this chapter. Yeah, I know it's kind of a barrage of old friends, but hey, I'm happy with it, because something CHEERFUL happened at last! *cheers madly***

**If you've not voted for your favourite OC in my poll yet, please do quickly, because I'm taking it down in a few days. It'll be replaced with one to decide which story I write once this one and the one-shot conclusion to the series are finished. **

**Well, hope you liked the chapter. Apologies for the cliffhanger!**


	20. Memories

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Blue eyes gazed into mine. Bright blue eyes the colour of the morning sky. Blue eyes alight with fear and shock and suspicion. Blue eyes that I had not seen for more than ten years. Blue eyes I remembered so well.

It was her. There was not the tiniest sliver of doubt in my mind that it was her. I knew that it was my old playmate, that it was my greatest and only childhood friend. I knew that she was Henja, with as much certainty that I knew that rain fell and rivers ran and night followed day. Even if that amulet had not been hanging around her neck, I would still have known. The voice was stronger, a little deeper, and the hair longer. The companion I had shared my adventures with when I was six years old had never been clad in iron from head to toe, and had never wielded a greatsword almost as tall as I with enough strength to kill a sabre cat. But despite what might have changed in her appearance, I still knew that it was her. It was Henja. After all this time, after all these years, I had found her.

It seemed impossible. It seemed like something that might happen in one of the old tales I'd read as a child. It was the sort of thing that simple did not happen in real life. This was my first and best friend, who I had lost years ago when my own traitorous, heartless father sent her and her family away. This was the person I had been thinking of when I battled my way through the wilderness, when I tried to fight off the wolves, when I made my way to Riften with Azhanri's caravan. It was because of her that I had found the Thieves Guild. And so quickly I had forgotten about her. I had allowed her to slip from my mind. I had decided that I would never find her, that it was useless even to try. I had turned my back on my past life, and looked to the future. I had sealed each and every single memory of her away in the darkest corners of my mind.

And now, here she was.

Here she stood, right in front of me, her golden hair floating free in the breeze, her armour streaked with the blood of the fallen sabre cats, those familiar blue eyes burning into mine.

It was not possible. It simply could not be possible. Tamriel was vast, and her family could have gone to any corner of it. I had been six years old when I saw her last, and so many years had passed since then. There was no way, now way at all, that it could be her. It was too great a coincidence that she happened to be here, battling sabre cats on this road on the exact same day that I happened to be travelling from Winterhold to Riften. The chance was too slight. It was so small it should barely even be allowed to exist. Things like this – they didn't happen.

But sometimes, it seemed, they had to. Because here she was in front of me, and there was no denying the simple truth.

It was her.

I saw those sky-coloured eyes narrow, saw the mistrust and wariness dawn on her face. I could see the temptation to reach for her sword burning within her. 'How do you know my name, Imperial?' she growled slowly, taking a half-step backwards.

She did not know me. I had not expected her to. I had grown older. I had changed so much since last we met. Of course, I was taller, and I had collected so many scars over the years. I wore the dark leathers of the Thieves Guild, and carried a steel sword and an ebony dagger on my belt. My mind, too, had changed, and my voice. Very little of the boy that she had once known remained. But there was still enough of him left within me for me to remember her. And as she said those words, joy exploded within me, because there was all the proof I needed that it _was _her, that my long-lost friend and I had truly found each other again.

'You don't remember me,' I said softly, and it was a statement, not a question.

Her brow furrowed, and I knew that she was searching her memory, trying to work out why she was meant to know me, where she had met me before. I hoped with all my heart that she might realise, but her only response was a small shake of her head.

I took a step towards her, and to my relief, she did not step away. I could have told her then and there who I was, but instead, I reached into one of the many leather pouches on my armour. I knew that it was there somewhere. It had to be. My fingers pushed aside lockpicks and potions and coins and stolen goods, and finally they closed around what I sought. Small, smooth, and still sharp. I closed my fist around it and held it out to her. Slowly, I uncurled my fingers, and it lay on my palm.

The tooth of a sabre cat. Identical to the one she wore around her neck. My mind flashed backwards in time to that day so long ago, when she had pressed it into my hand.

Her gaze focused upon. Her eyes widened. I saw the long-buried memories bubbling up within her. I heard her gasp. She reached up to the amulet around her neck, and looked at me with round, wondering eyes.

'Gallus?' she breathed, and the word was so full of doubt and amazement, as if she hardly dared to believe that it could be true.

But it was true.

She remembered me now. She had not forgotten me, after all. I smiled at her, and she stared back.

'I don't believe it,' she whispered. 'How… how can this be?' She shook her head, disbelief plain on her face.

'That's not a question for me, Henja. It's one for the Divines,' I told her gently.

For a few long, long moments, she kept on staring at me. And then a slow smile spread across her features, and before I knew it, she had stepped forwards and thrown her arms around me. I staggered back with a slight gasp, for she had become far stronger over the years, probably stronger than I was. Just one of the perks of being a Nord, I supposed, and hugged her back, pure and unbound delight burning within my heart.

'Gods above. It's been a long time.' Henja released me and stepped back, her eyes shining in the same way that they used to all that time ago. 'Why, we can't have seen each other since I was eight and you were… seven?'

'Six,' I corrected her.

'Then it's been… twelve years. Shor's beard, it seems impossible. But what are you doing here?' There was no longer any suspicion in her voice, merely thrilled curiosity.

Suddenly, I realised that it might not be best to tell her the full truth. Not yet. Worry swept over me – how would she react when she realised how I lived now and who I worked for now? Back when we were children, she had understood, more or less. But things had been different then. We had been different then. I had been stealing to try and keep her alive, and now I stole for a living. The Thieves Guild did not have a favourable reputation among the citizens of Skyrim. It would be terrible, too terrible for words, if after all this time we were reunited only to be separated again by the fact that we had chosen such different paths.

'I'm on my way home from Winterhold,' I told her, which was not the whole truth, but was at the very least not a lie. 'I heard these delightful creatures roaring, and I came to investigate.' I nodded at the limp bodies of the sabre cats. 'So what brings you to these parts?'

That was a tactic Dralsi had continually drummed into my head - always deflect awkward questions by asking ones of your own. Henja shrugged slightly. 'I heard that a sabre cat pack was prowling around out here. I was worried, naturally, since it's not too far from my own home, so I set out to deal with them. I should have brought back-up, but I thought I would be all right alone. I was wrong, of course, but then, I wasn't alone after all.'

'What happened to you?' I blurted out. 'I found the note you left me, after you were sent away, but after that...'

Henja sighed, a soft, melancholy sound. 'We... we had to leave. All of us. We hardly had the time to take anything with us. Father led us north, towards Morthal. I don't know why – I think we just chose a direction at random. Eventually he was able to hire the entire family out as labourers on a farm in exchange for the rent of a small house. It was hard – we had to scrape for every meal – but we survived. Eventually we managed to make enough money to buy ourselves a place of our own, and we settled down and started farming again. We were in the back of beyond by then, but at least we were safe, and together.'

I nodded. It made sense. The Guild wouldn't bother itself with a small family of farmers who lived in the middle of nowhere; it was no wonder that Dralsi had not been able to come up with any information about where they had gone.

'And what about you?' Henja asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. 'How has fortune favoured you since last we met?'

I hesitated, momentarily uncertain of what to tell her. Eventually I decided to simply throw caution to the winds and say everything. Henja was my friend, the first I'd ever had. I could not lie to her.

'After you were made to leave, I… I ran away,' I confessed. 'I learned that my father was the one who had your family evicted, and I just couldn't bear living with my family anymore.'

She dipped her head seriously. 'I suspected that your father might have had something to do with it,' she admitted. 'And I don't blame you for leaving. He was never a father to you.'

She had not changed. Not at all. The Henja I had known would never have questioned my decision. And here she was, not challenging me, not telling me that I had done the wrong thing. Just like she would have done twelve years ago.

'I wouldn't have survived for long, but I met a family of Khajiit,' I continued. 'They were on their way to Riften, and they offered to take me with them. I said yes, because I had nowhere else to go. And… also because they said that many people in Skyrim who lose their homes end up in Riften sooner or later. I hoped you might be there. I tried to look for you.'

Henja smiled, and I knew that was touched by my words. 'So what did you do then? Riften's the last place I would want to be fending for myself in at such a young age.'

I drew in a deep breath, knowing that the time had come to reveal to her where my allegiance lay. 'I stayed on the streets for some time. I had to steal to survive. There was no other way. Any orphaned child in Riften ends up in the Honourhall eventually. I had no plans on going there. So I kept myself out of sight as much as I could. But still, I was seen.'

'Seen?' Henja echoed. 'Seen by who?'

I bit my lip. 'I was seen by the people who see everything in Riften. On my seventh birthday, I was approached by a member of the Thieves Guild. She…' I hesitated. 'She said that I had talent, and that as I had no home, she was willing to offer me a new one. With her Guild. And I accepted.'

I looked up at Henja, dreading her reaction, but to my surprise she simply gave a slow, careful nod. 'Go on.'

I swallowed and obeyed, my gaze straying to the ground. 'They were offering me a family, a home, safety and friendship when I had none of those things and wanted them more than anything,' I told her quietly. 'They accepted me… more than that, they valued me. They thought of me as a friend, a colleague, a brother. They let me be who I wanted to be, in a way that nobody ever had before. Except for you, of course,' I added truthfully, glancing up at her. 'So I stayed with them, and I found a home there. I know that some people might think that what we do is wrong, but I've never regretted my choice. Because being with them gave me a new family, a far better family than my flesh and blood one. They've made me who I am. And… if I could relive my life, I wouldn't change anything. Because even if I've not taken the path I thought I would when I was younger, I've made my own fate, and I'm on my way to fulfilling a destiny set out for me before my birth. I'm happy. I'm proud of who I am.'

She continued to gaze evenly at me, and I met her eyes worriedly. 'So yes, I'm a thief, Henja, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But I do have a code, and honour, and so do all of my Guild brothers and Guild sisters. I didn't expect this life to be the right one for me, but it is. And I know now that I could never have lived the life of an ordinary citizen. It would be too safe, too normal, too controlled. Being with the Guild has allowed me to bring out all the parts of me that my father suppressed. And know that I belong with them. Can you… can you understand that?'

I do not know what I was expecting her to say. Maybe I thought that she would turn her back on me and tell me that I was no friend of hers. Perhaps I expected her to be upset by my choice of path, but to acknowledge reluctantly that it was not for her to choose what I did with my life. What I know I did not expect her to do was to shrug, smile, and tell me, 'Well, of course I can.'

I blinked, startled. 'You can?'

'Of course! Why would I not? For one thing, it's not my place to tell you what to do with your life. For a second, there's nothing all that bad about the Thieves Guild, really. Not when you look at them with a little perspective. And for a third thing, it doesn't matter what you've done with your life, Gallus, as long as you're happy with what you're doing, and you have a right to be happy about it.'

I felt my mouth twitching into a smile again. 'You think being a thief is something I have a right to be happy about?'

She laughed. Gods, I hadn't realised how much I had missed the sound of that laugh. 'I've learned much in the years since we parted, Gallus. And one thing I've learned is that as long as you go about whatever you do with honour and a will to do what's right, you have every right to do whatever you wish to.' Seeing my surprise, she gave me a small grin. 'You may be older now, but you still speak with the same voice as you did when you were six. You're the same person, I can see that already. And even if it's been twelve years, I still know you well enough to know that you'd not do anything without valour.' She chuckled softly. 'You'd have made a good Nord.'

Her words warmed my heart. 'But you always used to hate it when I stole from my father-'

'I was younger then. I've learned.'

I beamed at her, realising just how much I had missed her dependable Nordic logic, her solid and unwavering friendship, the way she always seemed to know the right thing to say. 'Thank you,' I told her.

'For what?'

'For understanding. And for everything you did for me when we were children.'

Henja laughed again, her eyes sparkling. 'You haven't changed a bit.' She looked right into my eyes, our gazes locking together. 'I've missed you, Gallus Desidenius.'

I was only to eager to reply with the truth. 'And I've missed you, Henja Snow-Walker.'

Her smile faltered slightly, and her foot scuffed the ground. 'It's Winter-Blade now, Gallus.'

For a few moments, my mind struggled to make sense of the information and what it meant. 'Winter-Blade?' I repeated incredulously, staring at her, stunned. 'You're married?'

She grinned. 'It's a long story. The man who hired my family to work for us on his farm… he had a son. Our families kept us separate, but it didn't stop him from falling in love with me.' She closed her eyes for a moment. 'As soon as he thought I was old enough, he asked my father for permission to marry me. My father said yes, on one condition. He would have to pay in return for my hand.'

I let out a gasp of horror. 'But that's barbaric! Didn't he ask you what you wanted?'

'Don't start, Gallus. It was the best thing he could have done. It was enough to bring our family out of poverty. And I could have done far worse than being married to Arnjar Winter-Blade. Far, far worse.'

An expression of pure and utter love flashed in her eyes, and my smile returned to my face. 'You're happy, then.'

She nodded. 'Completely. Arnjar is a good man.' A sudden flash of delight sparked in her eyes. 'Here, why don't I take you to meet him? If going back to Riften, you won't be going too far out of your way at all. Our home's hardly ten minutes' journey from here.'

Surprised, I hesitated. 'Thanks, Henja, but I'm not sure I should. My Guildmaster told me to be home by tomorrow night, and I can't really waste any time-'

She waved her hand carelessly. 'Don't be ridiculous, you've still got more than twenty-four hours. Listen, you can't just go straight back to Riften without sleeping, and you can't sleep out here in the wild, it's too dangerous. We can easily spare you a bed for the night.'

I paused, considering her offer. It felt wrong to intrude on her family's privacy, but she had invited me, and I didn't want to offend her. And what she said was true – I still had plenty of time before I needed to return to the Guild. I needed to sleep anyway, so why not rest in safety and warmth?

'I'll gladly take up that offer,' I told her, dipping my head. 'I'll just go and fetch my horse, and we can be on our way.'

A few minutes later, we were walking down the road together, Ebony trotting along beside us. I'd offered to let Henja ride her with me, since I was almost certain that the mare was capable of carrying two, but the Nord had politely refused, saying that she wasn't really comfortable with horses. We talked as we continued on our way, partly about days gone by and the times we'd shared together, but mostly about what had happened since. She told me of her first meeting with her husband, Arnjar, of how she had grown to care for him over the years, and of how the two of them had struck out alone together, adventuring through Skyrim just as she had wanted to when she was a child. I told her of the Guild, of our code and our family structure, and how I had become second in command. To my surprise, she congratulated me on my achievement, and wished me luck if I ever had to lead the Guild.

'I'm not sure I understand,' I admitted to her. 'You used to hate it if I stole something, when we were children.'

Henja's eyes flicked upwards to the sky. She was silent for a long time.

'Not long after I married Arnjar, he told me something,' she said finally. 'He said he'd always wanted to be an adventurer, the same as me. I told him that I shared the same wish, but felt that that life had been denied to me. My father would never approve, and it seemed too late to start a new life. And then he said something I'll never forget. He said, 'Why should that be? As far as I am concerned, every mortal in the world has the right to be who they want to be. The Divines gave us all free will. It's not up to others, it's up to us. Follow where your heart leads you, Henja. Don't look for who you are. Look for who you dream of being.' And so we left home behind and wandered Skyrim.' Henja smiled. 'Your heart has led you to the right place for you, Gallus, just as mine has led me. I have no right to think ill of your choices.'

It was so like something that Dralsi might have said, that for a moment I could not help but be surprised that the speaker had blue eyes instead of red.

It wasn't long before Henja led me away from the road and into the wilderness beyond. Her pace quickened, and I could see that she was eager to be home. A smile of pure delight broke over her face as a farmhouse loomed up ahead through the trees. 'Here we are,' she announced.

'Where do you want me to put Ebony?' I asked her, stroking the mare's velvety muzzle.

'There's a stable round the back. I'll show you.'

A few minutes later, with Ebony comfortably installed in the stable and munching happily on a mouthful of hay, Henja led me up to the door of her home. 'Come right inside. I'll introduce you to the family.'

She pushed open the door and stepped inside, and instantly staggered back with a short gasp as a small boy, clearly no older than four or five, raced up to her and threw himself into her arms with the force of a small, blond bolt of lightning. 'Ma! You're home!'

Henja chuckled and stroked his hair fondly, practically glowing with happiness. 'I'm home, son.'

The boy released her and leaped back, his grin too big for his face. He looked like a smaller copy of Henja – pale skin, golden hair, blue eyes, and the warmest and brightest of smiles. 'Pa took me to the market while you were out, and I saw this massive fish! I bet even you couldn't lift it! And I've been waiting for ages for you to get back, and did you kill the sabre cats, and were they big and fierce like you say they are, and who's this?' The last words were spoken with a curious glance at me.

'One of these days, you're going to injure your tongue by babbling like that,' Henja told him affectionately. 'Yes, I killed the sabre cats, and this is Gallus. He's an old friend of mine.'

The boy stared at me with wide eyes. 'Ma's told me about you. She said you're very brave and very clever.'

I glanced at Henja. 'Really?'

She nodded. 'Really.'

She stepped over the threshold and pulled the door shut. 'This is my son, as you probably guessed.'

The boy nodded eagerly. 'My name's Thjon.'

I bent down so as to be on his level. 'A pleasure to meet you, Thjon.'

'So, the adventurer returns!' The jaunty voice came from behind me, and I turned to see a young, fair-haired Nord man approaching. 'You dealt with those sabre cats then, I take it?'

'With a little help,' Henja replied, with a small nod in my direction.

The Nord dipped his head to me. 'Who's your friend, Henja?'

She pushed me forwards. 'This is Gallus Desidenius. I've told you about him, remember?'

The man – clearly Arnjar – raised his eyebrows, looking surprised but pleased. 'Ah, so you found him at last, did you?'

'He found me, actually. I was about to become a sabre cat's dinner when he turned up to lend a hand. And a sword.'

Arnjar smiled at me. 'Then I thank you. You're most welcome here. Our home is yours.' He frowned suddenly. 'Isn't that Thieves Guild armour, though?'

'It's all right, Arnjar,' Henja assured him quickly. 'He is with the Guild, but he is a friend. He can be trusted.'

The man's frown did not lift, and I knew what thoughts were running through his head. 'I expect that you're worried that I'll be making off with most of your possessions in the dead of night,' I predicted dryly. 'I don't deny that I am a thief. But to do such a thing would be a dishonour to my art and to myself, one that I could never live with. I know that mere words cannot make you trust me. But that is the honest truth, and I can say no more than that.'

Arnjar gazed at me for a few seconds more, the strode forwards, grasped my hand, and shook it with such force it was a miracle it wasn't wrenched clean away from my arm. 'Any friend of Henja's is a friend of mine. You seem honourable enough to me. Come right inside. Dinner's ready, and there's plenty of room at our table for one more.'

Taken aback by his easy welcome, I stammered my thanks. Henja shrugged off her heavy iron breastplate and dropped it into a nearby chest before following her husband into the next room, where the table was already set for the three of them. As Arnjar and Henja busied themselves with setting a fourth place – refusing my offer of help on the grounds that I was a guest – I felt a tug at my sleeve, and glanced down to see Thjon staring up at me. 'What do you do in the Thieves Guild, sir?'

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. 'Well, what do you think we do? I'd have thought that it would be in the name, really.'

'What's the best thing you've ever stolen?'

I frowned, pursing my lips thoughtfully. 'By best, do you mean the most exciting, or the most expensive?'

The boy paused, considering, then said firmly, 'Tell me about both.'

Chuckling, I obliged. 'Well, the most expensive thing I ever stole was when I was sent to break into the Thalmor Embassy. I came away with a solid gold goblet set with diamonds and rubies. That sold for a fair price. And as for the most exciting, it was probably the time I had to steal some antique weapons from the Blue Palace in Solitude. That in itself wasn't particularly exciting, until I was found by the guards. They chased me all the way through the city, and eventually I had to leap from the land bridge to escape them. Fell at least a hundred feet into the sea. It felt like I was being thrown into solid rock when I hit the water, but by the Gods, jumping from that bridge was one of the most amazing things I've ever done in my entire life.'

'Do you get caught often?'

I shrugged. 'Once or twice a month, maybe. It's an occupational hazard. Obviously I try to avoid it as much as I can, but it's inevitable that you get seen from time to time when you're breaking the law for a living.'

'And have you ever been sent to jail?'

I shook my head. 'No, the Guild has a lot of influence on certain city guards, so sometimes they let you go if they find you. If they don't, it's usually possible to make a getaway. And if all else fails, I just pay the fine. It's a pain, but better than a jail sentence. I've once had to break a fellow Guild member out of prison, but that was a different matter entirely.'

Thjon gasped, his eyes stretching wider still. 'Did you manage it?'

'I did indeed. In fact, it was a great deal easier than I expected. A simple sleeping potion slipped into the guard's mead while his back was turned, a quick bit of work with a nice strong lockpick, and the job was done.' I glanced apologetically at Henja. 'Sorry. I don't think I'm being a very good role model to your son at all.'

She laughed. 'No need to worry. Thjon asks endless questions of everyone who comes to visit, be they a thief or an adventurer or a merchant. Come and take a seat.'

'Sit next to me,' Thjon begged, dragging me over to the chair beside me. 'Are you good at stealing things? Could you steal anything you wanted to? Can you steal my spoon?'

'Stop pestering him, Thjon,' Arnjar scolded him.

The child scowled. 'I just want to see if he can do it.' He looked at me pleadingly. 'Could you steal my spoon?'

'Spoon?' I asked lightly. 'What spoon?'

Thjon looked down in obvious surprise at the place where the piece of cutlery had been only a second before. He gave a sharp intake of breath. 'How did you do that? Was it magic?'

Chuckled gently, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the spoon and held it out to him. 'Magic? Not at all. Merely a quick hand and the benefit of years of practice.'

Thjon took the spoon and held it up in front of him wonderingly. 'I want to learn how to do that.'

I glanced worriedly at Henja, but she seemed absorbed in pouring herself a mug of mead. 'The path of a thief isn't one I'd recommend for you at all,' I told Thjon quietly. 'It's difficult and often dangerous. Not to mention the fact that living completely outside of the law doesn't make the people of Skyrim look too kindly upon you. I only ended up a member of the Thieves Guild by chance, really. It chose me far more than I chose it. You should choose a far more respectable living for yourself.'

'You're a respectable enough person,' Arnjar commented, glancing up at me.

I found myself blushing, not entirely sure that it was true. 'I'm flattered you think so, but a thief's life isn't a particularly honourable one.'

'But your Guild isn't just a gang of bandits. You've got rules, a code.'

I lifted and lowered my shoulders in response to Henja's words. 'Very true. Take enough and no more, when you need it, not before. That's what Blade's always saying. He's our Guildmaster.'

'He sounds like a wise man,' Henja remarked.

'He is. He's one of the best people I know.' I sighed a little, resting my chin in my hands. 'It's strange. A lot of people seem to think that a Guild that makes its living by taking from others and breaking the law must be a group of disorganised and immortal criminals, but the first thing I learned when I joined them is that it's not true. In fact, little could be further from the truth. The people I work with… they're some of the most wonderful people I know. You wouldn't believe how brave some of them are, nor how loyal and true they are to each other. We're a family, bound together just as strong as a family with blood relations. Certainly they're a better family than my own true one. Perhaps we live outside of the law. I'll freely admit that our work gives plenty of people a fair reason to curse our name. But what they don't see…' I hesitated, trying to find the right words. 'What they don't see is who we really are. They think of us as a bunch of bandits because that's what we seem to be to them from the work we do, and I can't blame them for that. But if they actually took the time to learn more about us, maybe they'd see that we do have a code. We do have honour, and a strong sense of it. Some of us more than others, for sure. But we're far more than a rowdy gang of criminals. We're the Thieves Guild, and we're so much more.'

There was a lengthy silence as I finished speaking. Thjon looked a little confused – I realised that much of what I had said would have been too deep for him – and continued stuffing himself with venison. Henja and Arnjar regarded me with a mixture of surprise and respect.

'Well, you learn something new every day,' Arnjar said at last.

'Indeed.' Henja shrugged slightly. 'I've never had any problem with your Guild, and they've never troubled us. But I never really realised how different you are to the way people think of you. I suppose in a way you're not all that different to the Companions.'

I nodded, delighted. 'Exactly. One of my Guild brothers once told me that all of us were quite capable of finding honest livings for ourselves. The only reason we chose the join the Guild was because each and every one of us is a born rebel and can't live without a little excitement in their lives.'

Thjon sucked his lip for a few moments, looking a little lost. 'Ma, are there any sweetrolls?'

'Not until you've finished, Thjon,' Henja told him, rolling her eyes.

The boy huffed under his breath.

I couldn't help but wonder as I watched the three of them together. Henja and Arnjar clearly loved Thjon more than it was possible for words to say. And he loved them just as fiercely in return. What would it have been like for me if I had been born into such a family? If my own father had loved me as much as Arnjar loved Thjon, would I never have left? Would I be happier now? Where would my life have led? Would things have been changed for better or for worse?

It was a question that at first I thought I could not answer. I had no idea what it was like to live in a proper family. I could not say what effect it would have had on me when I did not know what it was like. But then I realised something. It was because of the hatred that existed between my father and I that I had run away. Had I never run away, I would never have been chased by the wolves. And that led to me being found by Azhanri and her caravan, and that led to me learning of Riften, and that led to my arrival in the city of thieves. And it was because I came to Riften that my talent as a thief was seen by Dralsi. And she was the one who brought me into the Guild. And the Guild… the Guild gave me back everything I had lost. A home, friendship, a family. My life.

There was no avoiding it. The Guild made me alive. They had made me into the man I was, and they were my entire life. From the moment I woke in the morning until the second I fell asleep at night, everything I did was for their sake.

Partly, that was out of gratitude for all that they had done for me. But mostly, it was because they were everything to me. It made me stop with a fork halfway to my mouth as I considered it. Since I had stepped down from the ladder into the Cistern behind Dralsi all those years ago, everything I had done had revolved around my family of thieves. I had shed my blood for them, and shed the blood of my foes for them. I had been chased by town guards for their sake. I had shattered the law into pieces a thousand times. Since the day I turned seven, everything I had done had been for the Guild. My Guild.

Without my noticing, they had become my entire world.

And the truth was, I loved it. I loved my life. I loved the work I did. I loved the thrill of excitement that came with breaking into a house in the dead of night, and I loved sitting in the Flagon, chatting with my brothers and sisters. I loved running from the guards, I loved slipping my hands into the pockets of unwary citizens, I loved sparring with Blade and playing cards with Mercer and sharing a bottle of mead with Delvin. I loved it. I loved it all.

I looked at Thjon and Henja and Arnjar, and I allowed a small smile to cross my face. Because I knew now that despite the hardships of my childhood, I was glad that my family had not been like this. If my mother had not been murdered, if my father had not loathed me and tried to control me, I would never have become the rebel that I was. I would never have joined the Guild. I would be just one more ordinary citizen. And that seemed like a pitiable fate.

The suffering of my past was what had brought me to the Thieves Guild. And I would not have exchanged my place among them for the entire world.

* * *

Dawn came all too quickly, and with it the time for my departure.

'There's something I'd like to do for you,' I said quietly. The Winter-Blade family stood outside their house, three pairs of blue eyes regarding me with curiosity. 'It's a small thing in return for your kindness, and it'll involve defacing your doorframe a little, I'm afraid, but it's the least I can do for you.'

I drew my dagger from my belt and stepped up to the doorframe of their house, located the ideal place, and slowly drew my blade across the wood. Carefully and meticulously, I carved out a small symbol, easy for the casual observer to miss. A mark that would only ever be seen if someone were looking for it. A diamond, with a circle covering each of the outer points.

Stepping back and sheathing my dagger, I turned to the family and explained. 'It's called a Shadowmark. Guild members place them on certain buildings to leave a message for any other thief who might pass that way. Usually, they're used to point out a place with good loot, or danger, but this one's special. I don't think there are many places in Skyrim that bear this mark. It means, 'Protected.' From now on, every Guild member is your ally. None of us will ever steal anything from your home, and it should act as a deterrent to any other thieves who might see it. You're under the Guild's protection. We'll guard you with our lives.'

Henja smiled at me. 'You have our thanks, Gallus.' She placed a hand on my shoulder. 'I'm glad we found each other again, even if for a short time.'

I chuckled gently. 'Oh, don't think you've got rid of me yet. I'll drop in from time to time if I pass this way, see how you're all doing.'

'I'd like that,' she replied quietly. 'May the Nine walk with you, Gallus.'

'And with you, Henja.'

Thjon gave me a shy grin. 'Bye, mister. Don't get put in jail.'

'I'll try not to,' I assured him.

Arnjar stepped forwards and shook my hand, with just as much strength and force as before. 'Take care of yourself out there, friend. It's a dangerous world.'

As I pulled myself up into Ebony's saddle, Henja called up to me. 'Gallus, before you go…' She swallowed. 'I think you should know that when we were children, your friendship meant everything to me. If it weren't for you, I might never have achieved the happiness I have today. I owe you a great debt.'

I shook my head. 'If I hadn't met you, I'd be nobody, Henja. You owe me nothing. I will never be able to thank you enough for everything you did for me.'

Those blue eyes shone with warmth. 'Farewell, Gallus. Gods guard you.'

'Farewell for now, Henja,' I replied.

I tugged at Ebony's reins and dug my heels into her sides. She jerked into movement, quickly picking up speed and breaking into a trot. As I reached the edge of the trees, I turned, back, casting a final glance behind me. Thjon and Henja stood in the doorway of their house, their hands raised in farewell.

I would miss them. I would especially miss Henja. I had spoken the truth – without her, I would never have become the man I was. I owed her so much, more than I would ever be able to repay. I knew in my heart that I would not see her again for some time, but despite that, there was joy burning within me. She had chosen a very different path to mine, but like me, she was happy. She, too, had found a family, a home.

I turned and spurred Ebony onwards, into the crowding pines. Her pace quickened, and by the time I reached the road again I had urged her into a flat-out canter, eager to return to my Guild. To my family. To the new life that I loved so much.

* * *

**So, I hope you liked Henja's return! If you didn't, sorry. Can't please everyone…**

**If the ending seems rushed, well, it was. Work overload meant that by the end of the chapter, I found myself thinking, 'I've been long enough getting this done, just finish it and be done with it...' Sorry about that, I might come back and edit it later when I've got a bit more time.**

**After a long time spent doing confusing calculations, I worked out that it is physically possible for Thjon to be Henja's son. I just had to stretch things a little. If anyone wants the maths, feel free to PM me.**

**Well, see you next chapter! Thanks for reading!**


	21. Lessons

CHAPTER TWENTY

_11th__ of Sun's Height_

_I think we all knew that this day was coming. It was as inevitable as the turning of the seasons. For a long time, we've been suspecting that there was something between the two of them. I don't think anyone was the least bit taken aback when they told us. And ever since that day, I'm almost certain that there wasn't a thief in the Guild who didn't know that this was going to happen someday. The only question was when, and it was only a matter of time, really. But finally, at long last, Farmund's been able to pluck up the courage to don the Amulet. And nobody was surprised when Fjella said yes._

_They announced it to the Guild this morning. Farmund Silver-Tongue and Fjella the Unforgetting are getting married. We all knew they would be eventually. They've not sorted out all the arrangements yet, so they haven't set a date, but they think that it'll be at some point next week. The entire Guild has been invited. Blade has promised to give us all the day off when the wedding comes. We'll be holding a party of sorts, I suppose, after the ceremony. Or rather, there'll be a chance to make Mercer and Delvin very happy by making the most out of our business agreement with the Black-Briar meadery._

_Since Farmund and Fjella announced their engagement, most of the conversation in the Flagon seems to have been about the wedding. Everyone's excited, I think, especially little Tonilia. She's bouncing about the place with all the enthusiasm typical of a five-year-old, asking everyone and anyone who stays still long enough what the ceremony will be like, and whether she'll be allowed to go, and whether they'll be sweetrolls at the party afterwards. I don't think it's possible to dislike that child – she's sweet, sensible and caring. Not to mention guileless, completely guileless. She takes after her mother a lot, but I see some of Sabinus in her too. Anyway, she's getting under everyone's feet by asking endless questions, but nobody minds – partly because she's so adorable, but mostly because we're just as excited too. Mercer and Elandine (our resident pessimists) are pretending that it's all beneath them – it's 'no big deal,' in the opinion of a certain Breton friend of mine – but we know that really they're just as eager for the big day as the rest of us. _

_There is only one sorrow that I bear within me now. I am not at all certain how long Farmund and Fjella will choose to remain in the Guild after this. It's not exactly the ideal place for family life. Ahsla and Sabinus proved that. Even Dralsi chose to leave once her daughter was born. I don't want to lose Farmund or Fjella. They are part of our family, and have been since the day I first walked into the Flagon. I'm not sure if things would be the same without Farmund there to confuse the guards with his endless babble and Fjella remembering every single detail about everything that's ever happened to her. I don't even want to lose Manji. That cat's so old now that he barely does anything but hiss and purr a little, but he's still part of the Guild. The Cistern wouldn't seem right without him lying curled up on top of a barrel, staring at us all. I don't want to lose them._

_Of course, it's their choice to make. And they may not decide to leave. There's been no suggestion of it. But we all know that they might._

_Still, there's no time for moping and trying to guess what the future will bring. Live in the moment, Gallus, and appreciate what's in front of you in the here and now. Did you never listen to what Dralsi used to tell you?_

_I miss that Dark Elf. I haven't seen her for some months now, not since the last attack on the Sepulchre. And the middle of a pitched battle with yet another group of mercenaries is hardly the best time to catch up with an old friend. Still, we managed to find some time to talk afterwards. I'm glad that she and her daughter are still living safe and happy in Shor's Stone. Dralsi deserves a little peace. It's strange – I've heard so much about her Karliah, yet I've never actually met her. She must be about fifteen or sixteen now, I suppose, since she was a year old when I first joined the Guild. Well, I daresay I'll have plenty of time to get to know her in a few years' time, when Dralsi predicts she'll come to join the Guild. If she's inherited her mother's talent, she'll be a valuable addition to our numbers. Much as I'm looking forward to meeting her, I expect it'll be hard for Dralsi when she leaves. Dralsi will be completely alone then – no Guild and no family. How I wish Elrandor had never died. Some people have suffering in their lives that they could never deserve. _

_Ah, well. There's not time to sit here and dream, because there's plenty of work to do today, just like always. Mercer and I are taking the Khajiit twins out into the city later for some pickpocketing practice. It staggers me how quick those two are at learning. I can't remember a single time I've had to say something to Ma'rhaz more than once - when he was actually paying attention to me, that is. He seems to soak up everything I tell him, even though he does have something of a rather severe concentration problem. Dar'zha, on the other hand… well, he's just as quick-witted as his brother, and his mind is as sharp as his talons, but he's unbelievably easily distracted. And by the Nine, he never stops talking. Never. Poor Mercer finally met his match the day that Khajiit entered the Cistern. I think maybe Blade made a poor choice when he chose which of us should mentor which twin. I know for a fact that I am ten times more patient than Mercer. Dar'zha has proven to be quite a handful for him, and I'm not sure how much more his nerves can take. Still, I'm not complaining, even if I do feel rather sorry for Mercer. Ma'rhaz is a pleasure to teach. Not that I've got much more to teach him. Even when they first arrived in the Guild, the twins were skilled thieves, and that talent has only increased under our guidance._

_This is one of the many things I love so much about keeping a journal. I can allow my mind to wander so freely._

_Well, now I think I'll have to put Farmund, Fjella, Manji, Tonilia, Ahsla, Sabinus, Dralsi, Karliah and Elrandor out of my head. I'd better go and find Mercer and the twins. It's time we get down to business. _

* * *

'Oh Gods above, us hear our prayer…'

The twins ignored the glares from the citizens of Riften as they half sang, half roared the familiar tune, taking it in turn to warble each line. 'Grant that we may return back there…'

'Return once more,' Dar'zha trilled, his voice missing the high notes by a mile, 'To that far shore…'

Both twins sang the final line at the top of their voices. 'The distant land they call Elsweyr!'

Mercer let out a low groan and slapped a hand to his face. 'Must you walking rugs draw attention to us like that?'

I gave him a small, warning nudge, and he rolled his eyes at me.

'Of course,' Dar'zha said carelessly. 'If we draw attention to ourselves, the last thing anyone will expect us to do is cause trouble.'

'That is the worst logic I have ever had the misfortune to encounter in my entire life,' Mercer snapped. 'Can't you two act reasonable sensibly?'

'No,' both twins chorused together.

'Who wants to be sensible?' Ma'rhaz asked, an expression of mock horror on his face.

Dar'zha nodded seriously. 'Sensible is boring.'

'Sensible is for people who don't want to have any fun in life,' Ma'rhaz agreed.

'And what is life without fun?' Dar'zha grinned, his whiskers twitching with amusement.

Mercer moaned under his breath. 'The moment we get back to the Flagon, I am handing in my resignation to Blade,' he muttered to me bleakly.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. 'Some people might consider that to be giving in under pressure, Mercer. And don't forget that a Guild member is meant to be-'

'Determined and confident at all times, yes, I know. Don't start, Gallus, I've heard your lecture on perseverance a thousand times.'

'Which is just proof that you didn't listen the first nine hundred and ninety nine times,' I pointed out, as we rounded the corner into the marketplace. It was teeming with people, as it always was in the early morning, and it was with some difficulty that Mercer and I squeezed through the bustling crowd to catch up with the twins. 'So obviously I need to repeat it.'

Mercer shook his head despairingly. 'Gallus, have I ever told you that you are the most impossible and infuriating person I have ever met?'

I winked. 'More than Dar'zha?'

'Good point,' the Breton admitted, with a light chuckle. 'It's tricky to be more frustrating than that Khajiit.'

'Hey, Gallus!' Ma'rhaz shoved his way through the crowd, ignoring the glares shot at him. 'Can we steal something now?'

I shook my head firmly. 'Blade specifically asked us to target the wealthier merchants today. Until we've worked out some targets, nobody is stealing anything.'

Dar'zha's tail drooped. 'Please?'

'No.'

There was a moment of silence, then Ma'rhaz raised his hand. 'What about now?'

Mercer buried his face in his palms for what must have been the eighth time that morning. 'Gods give me strength. You're like a pair of six-year-olds on a long journey asking if they're there yet.'

I sighed and raised my hands, admitting defeat. 'Fine, off you go. Take care, and don't forget the rendezvous. Be at the Temple of Mara in twenty minutes.'

Dar'zha punched the air. 'Our noble deputy has spoken! We have permission!'

Ma'rhaz let out a triumphant hiss and punched the air with both fists. 'The people of Riften will not know what's hit them. Let's go, brother.'

Both twins turned and raced away, their coal-coloured pelts quickly vanishing among the crowd.

'Be careful how you go about it,' I called after them, though I was fairly certain they were already well out of earshot. 'The Black-Briars have been going through a difficult time recently, so they've had to cut the guards' pay. They won't be in a good mood right now. If you get caught, we may not be able to bail you out.'

There was no response, and I hadn't been expecting one. The Khajiit brothers might have been expert thieves and loyal friends, but one of their few failings was that they had to learn to listen. Once, Mercer and I had been forced to repeat an entire mission plan to them after we'd described the job to them, only to find that they'd completely lost interest and had instead been gazing at the sweetrolls and fish on the food stall behind us. Another time, we had been travelling to Morthal, and they had seemingly completely forgotten our destination and dashed off to chase butterflies, adding a lengthy and somewhat unnecessary detour onto our journey. Much as I liked them, I knew that if something didn't happen to make them more willing to listen to instructions, it would be some time before they could finish their apprenticeship. When they were paying attention, they absorbed everything that was said to them, but when they weren't, it was a hard task to make them focus. They had all the skills they needed to be great thieves, but they lacked some of the essential teamwork skills that their colleagues had.

The problem was that as their mentors, Mercer and I were the ones who were expected to carry out the none-too-easy task of making them develop their skills. I have never been one to back down from a challenge, but I had a feeling that this would be a difficult thing to accomplish. It wasn't that the twins were unintelligent – quite the opposite, in fact – but it was hard to make them stay still in one place for long enough to teach them anything.

'Those two have attention spans the size of a Thalmor's sense of justice,' Mercer snorted, staring at the place where they had disappeared. 'Divines only know how they've survived this long.'

'I wouldn't entice ill fortune like that if I were you,' I warned him. I glanced after the Khajiit with a small sigh. 'I do worry about them, you know. They're great thieves, but there's still a long way to go before they're great Guild members, if you know what I mean.'

Mercer let out a small bark of laughter. 'If I know what you mean? If you're referring to the fact that they seldom take in a word of what anyone says to them unless it involves food, don't seem to understand the meaning of focusing on one thing at one time, and have no concept of obeying orders whatsoever, then yes. I know very well what you mean.'

We both laughed, and some of my unease over the twins lifted. Mercer always seemed to be able to raise my spirits. We'd known each other for more than ten years now, and in that time, we had been through so much together. Together, we had carried out numberless missions. Together, we had fought in more battles than I cared to count. Together, we had shared evenings in the Flagon, talking and laughing together. After so many years of working together, we were now less like two different people and more like the two parts of a well-oiled machine, working together seamlessly and flawlessly. When we were out on a job, communication was barely necessary. A swift nod, a glance, a wave of the hand- that was all it took for each of us to know what the other was thinking. In battle, we never even had to look at each other. I simple knew how Mercer thought and fought, and he knew the same about me. We were practically unbeatable. I knew that if I were ever to become Guildmaster, it was Mercer I wanted as my deputy.

Sometimes, at times like this, I thought about Henja, and wondered whether we would have one day become as close as Mercer and I had, if we had not been parted from each other that fateful day all those years ago. Maybe. Probably, in fact. But there was no denying the fact that our paths had separated now. I still dropped in on her and her family from time to time, if I was passing by that way, and every so often I would receive a letter from her via courier, which I would quickly reply to. But she and I would never again share the same friendship that we had treasured when we were children. It saddened me, but it was the truth. And anyway, I had no regrets about leaving my old life behind. None. I had the Guild as my family, and I had Mercer as a best friend. He and I were an indomitable team, and his friendship meant more to me than almost anything else in the world.

Of course, back then, I did not know that our friendship, the depth of knowledge that Mercer had of my ways and my manner of thinking, would one day lead to my death.

'I do fear that one day something bad will happen to them because of their way of thinking,' I admitted. 'They're a pair of exceptionally good thieves – only to be expected from Khajiit, I suppose – but they're so…' I frowned, searching for the right word.

Mercer nodded, and once again I knew that he had understood me without my needing to complete the sentence. 'Rash,' he finished. 'Reckless. Too wild and hasty for their own good.'

I dipped my head. 'I don't want to call them foolish, but simple truth is they need to learn how to stop and think. They're forever dashing around, never considering what dangers might be in wait for them. They're too impulsive and careless for my liking. I'm afraid that someday something will happen to them that we'll all come to regret. And whatever it is, I know that I'll feel responsible for it.'

A grim smile confirmed Mercer's agreement. 'Yeah. One of these days, they're going to end up paying for never listening.'

'Now I come to think of it, we should probably be going and watching them instead of standing around here talking,' I pointed out. 'Blade asked us to assess their skills, remember?'

Mercer snorted. 'And what do you think our chances of finding them are?'

'We asked them to stay in Riften, and I'm fairly certain they were listening when we told them that, at the very least. There aren't all that many places they could have gone. You search the Plankside district, and I'll take Dryside. One of us will find them.'

'Sounds like a plan.' Mercer rubbed his hands together. 'Whether we find them or not, we'll meet outside the Temple of Mara at the time we agreed.'

I nodded, and was about to turn and start pushing my way through the crowd, when I heard the scream.

It was a scream that made the entire marketplace, the entire town, maybe even the entire world, stop dead and freeze. It was a scream that made the hair rise up on the back of my neck. It was a scream that I recognised instantly – not one of fear or terror, but one of pain. Pain beyond measure, pain beyond belief. The kind of pain that made anyone who experienced it feel as if their blood were on fire. Anyone who could produce that sound would be in such agony that they would welcome death. And I knew without needing to be told that it was one of the twins.

I was moving before I could even think about it, my hand flying subconsciously to the hilt of my sword. I did not know what in the name of Oblivion had happened to make either Ma'rhaz or Dar'zha produce such a sound. All I knew was that I had to stop whoever or whatever had caused them to make it. As the citizens of Riften stood motionless, staring with wide eyes in the direction of the noise, I dashed through them, darting and ducking around them, my breath coming in loud gasps and my feet thumping on the wooden walkways. Mercer, his face pale, followed one step behind me, his blade already drawn and shimmering in the sunlight.

I raced around the corner. And I saw.

I saw the town guard who held one twin to the ground, one hand around the Khajiit's throat and the other gripping his dagger. I saw the other twin lying on the ground nearby, a gash above his eye gushing blood, struggling to rise to his feet. I saw the people of the city standing frozen, staring, doing nothing.

And I saw… Gods above. Within a few seconds, I think that I saw more nightmares than I had ever seen before in my entire lifetime.

I do not want to say it. I do not think I can bear to say it. Just thinking of it brings tears to my eyes.

So I will not describe what the guard did.

I will merely say that as he withdrew his blood-soaked blade, the screaming stopped abruptly.

I saw it. I saw it all, every terrible, terrible detail.

But unlike Mercer, who had skidded to a halt behind me, and unlike the civilians who did nothing but stare, I did not freeze.

I kept running.

And as I ran, a fury that blazed like fire engulfed me completely, and I drew my sword. I swung it. There was a faint thrum of air, and then I felt the blade meet resistance. But it only lasted for a second. A moment later, it was free again, and more scarlet blood spattered onto the ground.

The guard's head fell to the ground, the helmet hitting the wooden path with a dull thud.

His body followed a moment later.

There was no time to reflect upon what I had done, to consider why I had done it or what the consequences might be. Already the man had faded from my memory. All that existed on the world was my Guild brother, writhing on the ground in front of me, blood pooling around him.

For a second time in my life, one of my Guild siblings had fallen victim to a guard who wold not bow to us. Once again, I had not been able to stop what happened. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I made an unconscious but nonetheless solemn oath that this time, I would not let them die.

I turned my head, meeting Mercer's eyes. 'Mercer, go back to the Cistern. Get Elandine.'

He hesitated, staring in blank shock at the desperately thrashing Khajiit.

'_Go!' _I more or less roared, and Mercer, to his credit, jolted out of his reverie, spun around, and sped away through the crowd.

I yanked a healing potion from one of my many pockets and knelt down beside my Guild brother. I noticed that he wore his earring in his right ear. This was Dar'zha, lying here in a puddle of his own blood, and that was Ma'rhaz rising to his feet, his eyes wide as day and an expression of pure horror and unrestricted terror on his face. 'Brother!' he screamed, and made as if to dart forwards.

'Ma'rhaz, stay back,' I snapped, and I think I surprised everyone, especially myself, at how steady and commanding my voice sounded. 'Leave him to me.'

The Khajiit obeyed, but I was fairly certain he only did it because the entire world was breaking into pieces around him, and he was so stunned that for once in his life, he could do nothing else but follow orders. At the very least, a straight and firm command was something he could make sense of.

I tried to ignore the clamouring throng of people, pushing and shoving each other in order to get a better view, and focused all of my attention on Dar'zha. One look at him and I knew that it would be useless to try and heal him myself. I was afraid that I would only make things worse by pouring the potion down his throat, but at the rate he was losing blood, it was an all or nothing situation, and I would just have to take a risk. There was no time to consider the problem as I would have liked to; Dar'zha's life was in my hands now, and I had to make a decision quickly.

I swallowed hard and tipped a few drops of the life-giving liquid into the Khajiit's mouth. A faint golden glow surrounded him, and to my relief, the flow of blood lessened slightly, though it continued to come. I quickly proceeded to use the rest of the potion, and it slowed to a thin but steady ooze. Throwing aside the empty bottle, I tried to assess the extent of the damage – which was hard, since there was now a group of at least thirty people surrounding me, and their presence was somewhat distracting. My already frayed temper snapped, and I raised my head and glared at them.

'This is nothing to do with any of you. You are not helping in the slightest. I am trying to save a mortal's life here and you are being incredibly distracting,' I hissed, trying my best to keep a civil tongue in my head. 'If you could kindly continue going about your business, then I would be much obliged. If your curiosity is too insatiable, then at least back off and give me some space.'

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to my utter amazement and relief, a few people broke away from the crowd and shuffled out of sight, and all of them drew back a few paces.

'Thank you,' I growled through gritted teeth.

A figure shouldered past the others and stood over me, sword glinting. Another guard. My heart clenched, but I met his gaze without flinching.

'You've murdered one of my brothers in arms, Imperial,' he told me, his voice cold.

I drew in a deep breath. 'I know. And I am perfectly willing to face justice for it. However, one of my own brothers in arms is currently at risk of bleeding to death after what your colleague did to him. If you have the slightest bit of compassion, then at least arrest me once my friend is safe, and not before. I ask no more of you than that.'

The guard hesitated, looking between me, the mercifully unconscious Dar'zha, the trembling Ma'rhaz, and the decapitated body of his fallen comrade. Then finally, he inclined his head a little. 'All right. You have permission to take care of the cat.'

On any other day, and at any other moment, I would have told him sharply that the correct term was Khajiit. But for once, I ignored it, simply giving the guard a brief nod of thanks. 'I am in your debt,' I told him quietly.

There was the sound of feet pounding on wood, and Elandine and Mercer appeared, their faces drawn and tense. Elandine shoved me out of the way instantly and crouched over Dar'zha, her hands glowing golden. The Altmer's eyes narrowed in concentration as the tendrils of light surrounded Dar'zha's motionless body. The last of the blood flow slowed to a trickle and died, and I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my back.

'Is he all right?' Ma'rhaz whispered, his voice cracking. 'Will he live?'

Elandine, still hunched over the Khajiit, let out a small grunt and carefully prised Dar'zha's jaws apart. She peered into his mouth for a moment, then gave a small, rueful shake of her head before turning around.

'I'll be frank with you, Ma'rhaz,' she said bluntly. 'He's lost a lot of blood, and that's not a good sign at all. I've done my best, but I may have been too late.'

I pray to never see again an expression like the one that came over Ma'rhaz's face. I had never seen such deathless, endless despair. It was as if he had watched the destruction of everything he had ever cared for take place in front of his eyes.

'There is no hope?' he whispered.

'I never said anything of the kind,' Elandine snapped. 'Your brother's a fighter, and he's strong and healthy. He's in with a fighting chance. I'd say it's fifty-fifty.'

A dim spark of hope was kindled within Ma'rhaz's jade-green eyes. 'He may survive?'

'He might. With a bit of luck.' The High Elf folded her arms. 'But I'm going to be honest now, because there's no avoiding this. Even if he lives, Dar'zha will never speak again.'

For a second, the Khajiit simply stared at her, stricken. Then he let out a strangled, wordless cry and fell to his knees beside Dar'zha, grasping his twin's hand. 'No,' he sobbed, his entire body shaking. 'Mighty S'rendarr, please have mercy. Please, no…'

I glanced at Mercer, and as he looked back I saw his face mirroring my own emotions – numb grief and deep, deep pity. This… this was not justice. Ma'rhaz and Dar'zha were inseparable. Everything they did, they did together. Sometimes they seemed like the same person in two bodies. If Dar'zha died, a part of Ma'rhaz would die with him. And even if he lived, he and his brother would be separated forever. How could they ever share the same bond that they used to when Dar'zha could not speak?

I wished now that I had never voiced any of my fears to Mercer. I knew that I was being ridiculous, but I felt as if I had tempted fate and somehow brought this down upon the twins.

There was a quiet cough, and I glanced up to see the guard still standing next to us, gazing meaningfully at me. I took a deep breath and straightened up with a nod.

'Do what you will with me,' I said quietly. 'I'm ready to answer for what I've done.'

Elandine's eyes grew wide in alarm, and Mercer reached for his sword hilt. I shook my head at both of them. 'No, I told him he could do what he wanted with me once I'd seen Dar'zha safe. I killed a man and now it's only right that I answer for it. I'm not afraid to admit it.'

Mercer looked at me with his distress clear on his face, but I knew there was nothing to be done. The Guild's influence was of no help here. I had committed a murder, and I had to face up to that crime. Now that a little of my worry over Dar'zha had faded, a great wave of shame over what I had done had engulfed me. I had killed without hesitation or mercy. To be sure, I had been sorely provoked, but I should have tried to avoid the guard's death. I felt no remorse for him – I never could feel any pity for someone who would do what he had done – but it didn't alter the fact that he had been a mortal like me and now he was dead because of what I had done to him.

The guard looked evenly and searchingly at me for a few moments, then his gaze travelled to the corpse of his colleague. 'He won't be missed, you know,' he told me. 'Bad-tempered and sullen at the best of times, and even more so with the recent pay cut. No family. And a Skooma addict.' He looked at Dar'zha, still lying motionless with Ma'rhaz weeping by his side. 'I reckon it's partly our fault. Me and the other guards, we should have tried to get him off the Skooma. Might have stopped this from happening. He killed himself, really, just as much as you did. And in a way, I had a hand in it too by not stopping him sooner.' He sheathed his sword. 'I think you were perfectly within your rights to do what you did. So, shall we settle the matter for a thousand Septim?'

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and reached into my pocket. 'You have my thanks, sir.'

The guard took the coin purse I offered him with a small shrug. 'Don't mention it.' His eyes swept quickly over Dar'zha. 'I'm sorry about your friend. This makes two guild members attacked on the streets. I'll have a word with the captain of the guard. See if we can't do something to prevent situations like this happening.'

I was uncertain of what to say, so I merely nodded.

'All right, then.' The guard turned and clapped his hands at the crowd. 'Show's over. Nothing to see here. Be on your way, the lot of you.'

Muttering and whispering anxiously between each other, the throng of curious onlookers gradually dispersed. Touching his fist to his helmet in what appeared to be a somewhat respectful salute, the guard turned to follow them. 'Stay safe,' he called over his shoulder, and vanished into a nearby alleyway.

I glanced at Mercer, watching with his face the colour of ash, Elandine, her jaw set grimly, Ma'rhaz, still sobbing softly, and Dar'zha, his eyes closed and his dark grey fur drenched with blood. 'Is it safe to move him?' I asked, looking at the Altmer.

Elandine jerked her head. 'Safe enough.'

I let out a small huff of air. 'All right. Mercer, you're the strongest here. Can you carry him back to the Cistern?'

Mercer's response was to bend down, scoop the unconscious Khajiit up in his arms and lift him into the air. Dar'zha's head lolled limply against the Breton's chest, and streaks of crimson appeared on Mercer's armour.

'Let's go,' he growled, and began carrying the limp form of Dar'zha in the direction of the Cistern. Elandine hurried after him, but Ma'rhaz continued to crouch in the same position, staring numbly at the pool of his brother's blood. I knelt down beside him and place a hand on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry, Ma'rhaz,' I whispered, feeling tears stinging my eyes.

The young Khajiit shook his head, tracing lines in the scarlet puddle with his talons. 'It was this one's fault,' he choked out. 'Ma'rhaz should have done something. He should have stopped it.'

'There was nothing you could have done,' I told him firmly.

'But this one was a fool! He should have been watching, keeping alert for danger while his brother carried out the theft… if he had seen the guard looking, this would not have happened!' Ma'rhaz's desperate wail rang out through the air like the sound of a cracked bell. 'What if Dar'zha dies because of Ma'rhaz's negligence? Even if he lives, what kind of life can he have without a voice?'

I bowed my head. 'There's nothing that can be done about it now. We can't change the past, and we can't see what lies in wait for us in the future. I'm sorry. I wish I could say something that might help you, but I can't. All I can say is that we have to keep going.'

The Khajiit buried his face in his bloodstained hands. 'Ma'rhaz does not think he can. Not without his brother.'

I stopped trying to hold back my tears, knowing it was no use. 'Listen, Ma'rhaz. I know that nothing I can say can possibly make this any easier for you. But I will say this. No maatter what happens, you will always have a home and a family in the Thieves Guild.'

Ma'rhaz swallowed. 'Thank you, Gallus,' he mumbled, his voice thick with tears.

I gently grasped his arm and helped him to his feet. 'Come on. Let's go home.'

We walked back through the streets of the city together, but there was a distant expression in my apprentice's normally bright eyes, and I received the distinct impression that nothing he did seemed quite real to him. I knew in my heart, knew with a terrible, sickening certainty that I might well find myself with two Guild brothers lost to me before the day was out.

But I would not allow that to happen. If Dar'zha survived, I would find some way to give him a full life in the Guild. I would make sure that he and his twin got through this. Two such bright and cheerful mortals who still had their whole life ahead of them did not deserve such grief. They were my friends and my brothers. And I would not let this destroy them. Not while I had breath in my body.

* * *

I dismounted from Ebony and started to walk back towards the gates of Riften with a heavy heart. It was impossible to feel light-spirited at a time like this. With no idea what awaited me back in the Flagon, there was a raging turmoil of conflicting emotions within me – pity, sorrow, worry and most of all, fear. Elandine had told me she was fairly certain that by the time I returned from my mission, Dar'zha's future would become clear. I had been away from the Guild for three days, on a mission in Solitude, but not for a single moment in all that time had any of the burning anxiety within me subsided. I was dreading what I would find when I returned home.

I made my way through the quiet streets with my gaze fixed on the ground. Night was drawing in, and drops of water were dripping steadily from the amber leaves of the trees after the recent storm, forming glistening puddles on the wooden paths. A thrush took wing from a rooftop above my head, sending up a flurry of raindrops. A few people glanced at me as I passed with suspicion, recognising my Guild armour, and recognition sparked in a few of their eyes. Clearly, they had been among the crowd that had seen the Accident, as most of the Guild had taken to calling it.

Opening the trapdoor and descending the ladder into the Cistern, I quickly jogged over to Blade's desk to report to him. 'Mission complete, Guildmaster,' I announced.

The Argonian's beige-scaled face twitched up into a smile. 'Excellent. You made a profit, I trust?'

'A very healthy one,' I assured him, pulling a heavy coin purse from my pocket and dropping it onto his table. 'And I stopped in Shor's Stone on the way back to see if Dralsi had anything for Dar'zha. She gave me a few potions.'

Blade dipped his head. 'That was very considerate of you, Gallus.'

'How is he?' I asked, swallowing and clasping my hands together.

The Guildmaster let out a sound that was something between a hiss and a long, heavy sigh. 'Well, it's been a week now. I think the twins are slowly beginning to recover – at least, in body.' His jaw clenched grimly. 'Dar'zha is no longer in any danger of death, but seeing as he has quite literally lost his tongue… I fear for his future.'

I understood understanding Blade's concern only too well. The Khajiit would never again utter another word in his life, and there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it. So far, he had been able to communicate a few simple words through gestures, but I doubted that it would be enough. As hard as I tried, I could not see a future for him in the Guild. Of course, we would never be so cruel as to turn the twins away, but Dar'zha would never be able to go on missions the way he used to. How would he alert his colleagues if there was danger approaching? When the job organiser asked if there were any questions, how would he voice his doubts? How could he ever even hope to live the same life that he used to?

'You had better take those potions to him,' Blade told me. 'Come back in an hour or so and I'll give you your cut of this loot.'

I nodded. Blade was a fair leader - he would always give me what he thought I had earned, nothing more and nothing less. I murmured a farewell to him before hurrying across the Cistern. I was unsurprised to see Dar'zha still in his bed, with Ma'rhaz sitting next to him. What did make a glimmer of delight appear within me was the fact that Dar'zha was sitting up, and looked as well as could be expected of him. Ma'rhaz was telling him something in a low voice, but as I approached, he broke of his sentence and glanced at me. 'Welcome back, Gallus,' he called, with a faint smile.

'Thank you,' I said, before turning to his twin. 'How are you, Dar'zha?'

The Khajiit's mouth twisted into what was clearly meant to be a smile but came out as more of a pained grimace. He and Ma'rhaz winced in perfect unison.

'He feels a little better,' Ma'rhaz told me, with a swift glance at his brother. Dar'zha nodded to confirm it. 'But it still pains him.'

I reached into one of my leather pouches and tugged out a few small glass bottles. 'I rode to Shor's Stone to fetch these from Dralsi. She said that they'd do little to heal the actual wound, but they'll help prevent infection and they'll numb the pain.'

Ma'rhaz took them from me. 'We both thank you. And when you next see Dralsi, tell her that we are in her debt.'

Dar'zha shifted restlessly, and reached out to tap his brother on the shoulder, before beginning a slow and laborious series of hand gestures. This did not surprise me, seeing as this had been his only method of communicating since the Accident, but what did make my brow furrow was the fact that there seemed to be more method behind the movements this time. First, he tapped his mouth and gestured to me, then pressed a hand to his own chest. Ma'rhaz nodded slowly. 'Tell Gallus… you found…' His eyes narrowed in concentration as Dar'zha sketched a winding pattern in the air. 'A… a snake?'

His brother let out a hoarse bark of laughter, and I found myself smiling.

'A river? A road?' Ma'rhaz guessed. 'A pathway?'

Dar'zha's eyes lit up, and he beckoned, as if asking his twin to continue.

'A pathway… a path… a way?'

The mute Khajiit nodded violently, and tapped his mouth again.

'Tell Gallus you found a way to speak,' Ma'rhaz translated, looking delighted. Dar'zha clapped his paws together, his eyes shining with pleasure at being understood.

I stepped forwards, looking at the brothers with interest. 'You did?'

'In a manner of speaking,' Ma'rhaz began to explain, then stopped, looking mortified as he realised the irony of his words. Dar'zha sniggered, and I couldn't help a vast sensation of relief from taking hold of me as I realised that the Khajiit was not lost in mourning over what had become of him, but was still able to laugh and smile. 'We're trying to work out a way for him to communicate through his body rather than his voice. It will be difficult, but this one believes that anything is worth a try.'

I looked in appraisal and admiration at the two Beastfolk. Their spirits might have been wounded, but they had not been crushed. If this idea worked, if they really could work out some form of sign language for Dar'zha to use, we did not need to worry about him so much after all. Maybe there would be a way for him to speak. Maybe he could still play an active role in the Guild. Maybe there would be a chance that even if he could not get all of his old life back, he could hold on to some of it. 'Do you think it could work?'

Dar'zha gestured to himself and rapped the side of his head. 'He thinks so,' Ma'rhaz translated for me. 'And so does Ma'rhaz. We will make it work. We will not sacrifice our future in the Guild because of the insanity of an accursed guard.'

I beamed at them, and I couldn't help feeling proud of my apprentice and his twin. 'You're a pair of remarkable mortals. Not many would have that amount of perseverance. I hope that this works for you. Feel free to ask me if you need any help with anything.'

Ma'rhaz nodded, and Dar'zha gave a small bow. 'You have our thanks.'

I left the twins and made my way into the Flagon, in order to look for Mercer. He wasn't there, and after a little inquiry I learned that he was in Markarth with Delvin, on yet another routine break-in, leaving me at something of a loose end. I got myself a drink and settled down at a table, before reaching into my pocket to bring out my tattered pack of cards and beginning to play against myself. It was a strange habit of mine, but despite making most of my Guild siblings think me a little mad, it did mean that I won no matter what happened.

As I dealt out another hand of cards for my third game, I heard a quiet cough behind me and turned to see Blade standing watching me. 'I have your cut of the profits from your Solitude job,' he informed me, dropping the cloth purse onto the table. 'Two hundred Septim. If you think that's unfair, say so and I'll see what I can do.'

'No, it's more than adequate,' I assured him, tucking it into my pocket. 'Thank you, Blade.'

The Argonian took a seat beside me. 'I saw you talking to the twins. How are they?'

'A lot better than they were the last time I spoke to them. Dar'zha's certainly improved massively since I left. Have they told you about their plan?'

Looking intrigued, Blade shook his head.

'What they're trying to do is make a sort of sign language for Dar'zha to use. That way, he can communicate without being able to speak. It would be difficult for them to do, but they seemed quite serious about it. Not to mention very determined to make it work.'

The Guildmaster frowned, the end of his tail swishing thoughtfully. 'It's an ingenious idea, that's for certain. They would have to put in a great deal of effort, and it would be difficult for the rest of us to learn. But I expect they'll be more than willing to put in the necessary work.'

He let out a small sigh and, placing his elbows on the table, rested his head in his hands. 'It saddens me, Gallus,' he admitted softly. 'You and I have often talked about how the twins needed to learn to listen, to become less rash and impulsive and take more care of their lives. Now they have been taught that lesson, but in a painful way that they never deserved. They have their entire lives ahead of them, and this will weigh on their hearts forever.'

I dipped my head in agreement with the bitter truth of Blade's words. 'We can't change things now, much as we'd like to,' I sighed. 'The twins may emerge from this stronger than before, or it may destroy them completely. We'll just have to do what we can.'

'Of course. They are our brothers; for their sake, we will do whatever we must. And if they can overcome this, they have learned what they needed to in order to become full and great Guild members.' The Argonian shook his head sadly. 'I only wish that they could have been taught it without such pain for them both.'

He turned his head, his copper eyes staring searchingly at me. 'You know, Gallus, Mercer, Elandine and Ma'rhaz all told me that you handled the situation very well, when the Accident happened. They said you showed a great deal of initiative, and that you used some very good leadership skills.'

I blinked. 'I don't know. I wasn't really thinking about anything I did. I just did it because it seemed right.'

'You managed to make the crowd and the guards leave you alone. You sent Mercer to fetch Elandine and he went without question. You helped comfort Ma'rhaz. Your quick thinking and fast responses might very well have been what saved Dar'zha's life.' Blade smiled at me. 'When my time comes to follow in the footsteps of our lost friend Sereniel, I shall do so without any regrets or fears. I know that when I die, I will be leaving the Guild in safe hands.'

I chuckled. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that any time soon, Blade. I still don't feel quite ready.'

'If you did feel that you were ready, I would be almost certain that you were not,' the Argonian told me softly, laying his hand on mine in an almost fatherly manner. 'Don't worry, Gallus. You are young, but everyone here trusts and respects you. You're a wise man and a great thief – and one day, you'll make an even better Guildmaster.'

* * *

**I hated writing this... I feel so mean when I do something like this to a character. I wish I could have given Dar'zha more time before this happened to him, but the next chapter is very probably the last one of Book Two, and I've a feeling I need to get things rolling in preparation for the return of an old friend in the beginning of Book Three... ;)**

**I mentioned that I'd be replacing my poll soon with one to decide my next story. Ignore that, I've changed my mind. (I do that a lot.) After the Nightingale series is finished, I'll be continuing my Khajiit saga with Dragonheart, the sequel to Night Eye.**

**Not sure what else there is to say, so I'll just finish with the usual thanks for reading, and have fun! :D**


	22. Arising

**This is the longest chapter yet. I tried to split it up but I felt like it ruined the flow... so here it is.**

**It's also the end of Book Two. So I hope you enjoyed the story this far!**

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

The priest of Mara did not look the least bit happy, and if I was going to be honest, I didn't blame him in the slightest. When he woke up that morning, he had probably expected a simple, quiet, perfectly ordinary day. No heretics or eccentric strangers – indeed, no complications of any sort. The day would consist of a few peaceful hours praying to Mara, followed by a wander around the city to preach to its people about the error of their ways and how Mara smiled upon them and blessed them with her love. And once he'd secretly slipped into the Bee and Barb for a quick drink – hopefully one that went unnoticed by his fellow Mara devotees – he would return to the Temple in order to round off the day in the perfect way by marrying the Nordic couple who had arranged their wedding a few weeks ago. And a very nice couple they had seemed, too. The woman seemed quiet, but polite, generous and intelligent. The man had a warm heart, and a way with words like nothing the priest had ever experienced before. He still wasn't entirely sure how the Nord had managed to smooth-talk him into changing his entire schedule by postponing the wedding after one of the guests suffered an 'unfortunate accident,' but it hardly made any difference. And the two were clearly very much in love. Yes, it was fairly clear to all that the priest had not anticipated anything vaguely out of the ordinary happening on a day like this. He'd expected peace, quiet, and the happiness of two souls being bound together under Mara's love.

What he had got was a total fiasco. At least, it probably seemed like complete and utter chaos to him. Of course, for the Thieves Guild, such bedlam was a day-to-day occurrence. In the Flagon, nobody batted an eyelid when Elandine practised her spells in the middle of a conversation, often with the result of one of the High Elf's sentences being hurriedly broken off as she struggled to contain an accidentally summoned storm atronach. It was also considered normal for Tonilia to be zooming around like a Cliff Racer on Skooma, asking questions of anyone who would stay still long enough and getting under everyone's feet. Nobody really minded about Blade practising his swordfighting with an invisible opponent while he waited for something to happen. Nor did my fellow Guild members pay much attention when Delvin started caterwauling _Ragnar the Red _at the top of his voice, or when Dar'zha, who even without his tongue could still imitate practically any animal he set his mind to, let out an extremely realistic roar that made it sound like there was a bear or a sabre cat was standing in the room. It was rare for anyone to think that anything even slightly weird was going on when Sranys and Elruen grew bored, and started to shoot arrows at any object that caught their eye. No, down in the Flagon and the Cistern, that was the sort of thing that happened so regularly that nobody even considered them to be strange. But to the priest of Mara, it could not have been more obvious that it seemed like an entire troop of madmen had arrived to see Farmund and Fjella get married.

To give us our due, we had gone out of our way to make ourselves look a bit more like ordinary citizens than we usually did. Blade and I had managed to persuade – and in some cases, bully – our fellow thieves to cast aside their Guild armour for the day in favour of civilian clothes. Some of them had been reluctant, but we'd finally convinced them that we had to look somewhat smart, for the sake of Farmund and Fjella, who probably wouldn't appreciate each and every one of their wedding guests turning up in the shabby leathers that they'd been wearing for several years. The Guild armour might be tough and supple, but it wasn't exactly the sort of thing you wanted to wear to a wedding. And so at last, my brothers and sisters in crime had donned the usual tunics and dresses of ordinary citizens, and even Delvin had made himself look mildly presentable, which was quite a feat for the untidy Breton. And now we were all assembled in the temple, waiting for Fjella to arrive, with the very harassed-looking priest of Mara eyeing Elandine's gracefully hovering flame atronach with suspicion and uncertainty.

I turned around so as to be able to speak to the Altmer woman in the row behind. 'Elandine, I'm not sure about you having that atronach in the Temple. It seems somewhat disrespectful. And don't forget that this place is made of wood.'

'I'm just getting some practice, Desidenius,' Elandine snapped, but she obligingly dismissed the atronach with a flick of her palm, causing it to vanish in a puff of embers and sparks. The priest swallowed nervously.

There was a bored-sounding groan from beside me. 'How much longer does Fjella expect us to wait?' Mercer grumbled, slumping back against the pew. 'I know it's tradition for the bride to be late to her wedding, but you'd think she'd have a bit more consideration.'

I laughed. 'Mercer, we've only been here five minutes. If Fjella can remember what she did on a mission ten years ago, it's highly unlikely that she's going to forget her own wedding. Have a little patience.'

The Breton fixed me with a stare that could have melted metal. 'Gallus, you've known me for long enough. You should have learned by now that the word 'patience' is not a part of my vocabulary.'

The priest of Mara was shifting anxiously from foot to foot, his gaze travelling between the carnage in front of him and the door to the Temple. I wasn't sure whether it was because he wished he could make a break for it, or whether he was desperately looking out for Fjella's arrival. Whichever one of the two it was, I couldn't blame him for it. The poor man had just had the entire Thieves Guild converge on his temple without any prior warning.

I got to my feet and made my way over to Blade, who was quietly lunging and swiping at the air with his sword nearby. 'Blade, I hate to say it, but I think you're making that priest a little nervous.'

The Argonian stopped in mid-swing and glanced guiltily at the robed man. 'Ah, yes. I think you're right. I should really be doing more to control the others, shouldn't I?' He sheathed his sword with a slightly shamefaced smile. 'I think the problem is that the Guild isn't exactly used to being cooped up for any period of time in a public place. Far less a religious public place.'

'We should probably calm them down,' I remarked, glancing at Mercer and Elruen, who were now engaged in an arm-wrestling competition – which, to my surprise, Elruen seemed to be winning.

Blade nodded. 'Probably.' He stole a small glance at the shrine of Mara. 'This all seems so strange to me, though.'

'Strange?' I repeated, confused. 'A wedding? Why?'

'It's not the wedding itself; it's the way that the Nords choose to go about it.' My Guildmaster scratched the base of his horns uneasily. 'Back home in Black Marsh, we do not use the Amulet of Mara, as the people here choose to. When an Argonian is courting someone, it is the custom for them to make a wedding ring with their own hands. Through the effort that goes into the creation of the ring, he or she can prove their commitment and their devotion. And every ring is unique, with a special meaning for both its creator and its recipient. And the ceremony is very different, too. They tend to be somewhat long and complex, with songs and chants and rituals sung and spoken in our own language, Jel.' He sighed quietly. 'Though I expect you already knew most of that, hmm?'

I nodded. 'I've read something about it before.' I paused, looking curiously at my former mentor. 'Blade, do you miss Black Marsh?'

The Argonian was silent for a long time. 'There is a reason I prefer to be known by the meaning of my true name, and not my Jel title,' he said finally, in a low voice. 'I left my homeland many years ago, and I have no wish to return. Skyrim is my home now. Riften is my home. The Guild is my home. I am Draws-His-Blade now, and I bear that name with pride. Some nights, I dream of the woods and swamps of Black Marsh. I remember diving into the pools and swimming in the emerald water with my friends. I remember watching the Hist trees swaying in the wind. I remember my naming ceremony.' He smiled, his eyes shining like a pair of copper stars. 'That was the proudest moment of my life, Gallus. I went nameless, as all my kind do, for many years, and then suddenly, I was given a name. For other mortals, a name is nothing but a word that you answer to, but for Argonians, a name is your very being. It actually describes who you are, how you think, what you do.'

He blinked slowly, his voice becoming somehow absent and faraway, as if his mind were in the past and only his body remained in the present. 'Draws-His-Blade,' he murmured. 'That was the name I was given. Their naming is a moment that every Argonian hatchling both dreams of and dreads. What if they are named Foolish-Creature or Good-For-Nothing? Every one of them wants to be given a name that proves that they are brave and bold and clever. They want one that truly describes their spirit, one which will tell the world who they are.' Blade's expression was distant, dreamy. 'And they named me Draws-His-Blade. They named me for my skill in battle, my love of the way of the warrior. When I heard that name spoken for the first time, when I was told that this was my title for the rest of eternity… Gallus, there is no way that mere words can tell you how I felt. Never in all my life have I ever felt so proud.'

The beige-scaled Argonian gazed distractedly at the ceiling for a few moments, memories swimming in the bronze depths of his eyes, before shaking his head and jerking himself back into reality. 'Ah, listen to me, lost in dreams of my past. I came to Skyrim many years ago, and I found kindred spirits and a home here in the Thieves Guild. I do not want to return to Black Marsh, and I have no reason to wish to return. I am a Nightingale and a Guildmaster now, and I take pride in it. Even if this land and its traditions sometimes seem strange to me, I know that this is where I belong. I am glad that I came here.'

I smiled at him. 'I'm glad too, Blade. The Guild wouldn't be the same without you.'

He let out a soft, throaty chuckle. 'It flatters me that you think so, Gallus.'

He turned and cast his eyes over our Guild brothers and sisters. 'But you're right. We should really do something to calm this lot down. Fjella should be here soon.' The Argonian coughed and lifted his head. 'Guild!' he shouted, his voice echoing through the Temple.

Elruen glanced up, distracting him for long enough for Mercer to slam his arm down onto the pew with a triumphant yell, and Ashla quickly scooped Tonilia up in her arms and hushed her, but otherwise there was no response. Blade let out an impatient hiss and raised his voice. _'Guild!'_

Slowly, the babble of voices faded into silence, as the Guild members turned to look at their Guildmaster. For a few moments, Delvin's voice rang out alone, singing the final few lines of _Ragnar the Red, _before he too caught on and lapsed into an embarrassed silence.

'Thank you,' Blade said more quietly, with a disapproving glare at them. 'Pay attention please, everyone. Fjella should be arriving in a moment, so if you could kindly all remain quiet, I think it would be much appreciated. Especially by our friend here.' He gestured to the preist of Mara, who gave a small, disapproving sniff, and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like 'indeed it would.'

Farmund, standing by the altar, swallowed and took a hesitant step forward. 'Listen, everyone, thank you all for coming. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but Fjella said she wanted to change into her wedding dress after the rest of us had gone. She won't be much longer.' The Nord scratched his forehead with an expression of uncharacteristic uncertainty plastered over his face.

Blade nodded. 'There's no need to worry, Farmund. We don't mind waiting.' He slipped back into his seat, and I did the same.

The priest of Mara muttered something incomprehensible and went to stand behind the altar. For about a minute, there was silence, apart from the sound of Dar'zha quietly humming. Then there was a creak of wood as the door swung open, revealing Fjella, wearing a flowing white gown and an apologetic expression.

'Sorry I'm late,' she said shyly, her eyes straying to Farmund. 'I lost the Amulet of Mara you gave me. I've got it now.'

The priest clapped his hands together, looking immensely relieved. 'Ah, here's the blushing bride now. Let's begin the ceremony.'

Fjella hurried up the aisle to stand beside Farmund. The black-haired Nord turned to look at her, his smile too big for his face, and looped his arm through hers. A smile spread over the preist's face – I wasn't sure whether he was genuinely happy for Farmund and Fjella or just pleased that he would be rid of us before long - and he raised his arms.

'It was Mara that first gave birth to all of creation and pledged to watch over us as Her children,' he announced, his voice clear and confident from years of repeating the same words. 'It was from her love of us that we first learned to love one another. It is from this love we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all.'

He gestured to Fjella and Farmund, standing before the shrine. 'We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze, to bear witness to the union of two souls in eternal companionship. May they journey forth together, in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, in joy and in hardship.'

Lowering his arms slightly, the priest fixed his gaze on Farmund. 'Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?'

Farmund tore his gaze away from Fjella and turned to the priest, lowering his head. 'I do,' he confirmed, and there was a world of conviction and certainty in the words. 'Now and forever.'

With a small dip of his head, the priest turned to Fjella. 'Do you agree to be bound together, in love, now and forever?' he asked a second time.

The Nord woman nodded, her eyes shining like two blue stars. 'I do. Now and forever.'

The priest smiled as he looked at the young couple before him, and this time I was certain that it was not forced at all. 'Then under the authority of Mara, the Divine of love, I declare this couple to be wed.'

Without warning or hesitation, Farmund spun around, took a step forward, pulled Fjella to him and kissed her. For a moment, the young woman's eyes widened in surprise; then she relaxed into his embrace and held him close. Around me, my Guild siblings rose to their feet, clapping and cheering, and I joined them, my face hurting from smiling. There was a warm glow inside me, a feeling of pure joy. After the suffering of the last few weeks, seeing my fellow Guild members so happy was the most wonderful feeling.

'I present the two of you with these matching rings, blessed by Mara's divine grace,' the priest declared, as Fjella and Farmund final broke apart and stood staring into each other's eyes. 'May they protect you both in your new life together.'

Mercer, next to me, let out a quiet snigger. 'Well, those two seem happy enough together.'

'What do you expect?' I murmured in reply. 'Isn't that what getting married is about?'

The Breton gave a noncommittal shrug. 'I don't know. It's no use asking me. I mean, can you imagine ever getting married?' He paused, before adding, 'Scrap that, can you even picture yourself falling in love with anyone? Or what they might be like?'

I blinked, a little taken aback. Mercer was a true friend, but he had never been the deepest of mortals. His comment surprised me. Frowning, I thought about it for a moment, and shook my head. 'Not really, no. Can you?'

'Nope. I don't really feel like the type to be bound together in love now and forever with anyone. Prefer to be my own person.' He grinned. 'Mind you, I might consider it, if I found a good-looking and sensible girl…'

I nudged him. 'I don't think the Thieves Guild is really the place to look if that's what you're after.'

'True.' Mercer chewed his lip as the priest droned on about the symbolism of the bond of matrimony. 'So what sort of a girl are you looking for, hmm?'

I laughed quietly. 'Who says I'm looking? If someone comes along who I can love, then all the better. But if they never do, then I don't think I'll be any worse off.'

'Yeah, but if you were looking, what kind of person would it be for?'

I rolled my eyes, but all the same I couldn't help considering the question. 'Honestly, I don't know,' I admitted.

'Aw, come on, don't give me that. Beautiful? Smart? Witty?'

I sighed. 'Well, if you insist… clever, I suppose. I mean, I'm not asking for her to be a genius, but I don't think I could love someone who didn't have two brain cells to rub together. If you know what I mean.'

Mercer grinned. 'Predictable.' He glanced at the altar, where the priest was still calling out something about Mara's unending love.

'The thing is,' I added awkwardly, 'I'm not sure that even if I did find the right person I could ever do that.' Realising how vague I sounded, I quickly hastened to explain. 'What I mean is, I don't think I've got it in me to value one person above everybody else. My first loyalty is to the Guild. I'm second in command here and if the Gods choose, I might be Guildmaster one day. How could I possibly feel more devotion one person that much more than all the rest?'

Mercer nodded in understanding. 'Yeah, I see what you mean. Blade doesn't have any favourites and he treats us all equally. It'd be hard not to favour someone if you were in love with them.'

'Exactly.' I shrugged. 'I guess it's really one of those 'cross the bridge when you come to it' situations.'

My best friend frowned, looking at me very intently. 'You sound as if you don't even want to have to come to that bridge.'

My brow furrowed. What Mercer said was partly true. I had no experience with this kind of thing. It was a strange, almost alien concept to me. If I ever did fall in love with someone, then I hoped that I could be just as faithful to them as Dralsi and Elrandor had been to each other, as faithful as I was certain Fjella and Farmund would be to each other. But there was no ignoring the fact that I would almost certainly one day lead the Guild, and that would demand all of my commitment. And quite apart from that, when I took the Oath and became a Nightingale, Nocturnal had demanded loyalty to her above all else. And that meant above other mortals.

'I don't want my loyalty to the Guild to ever have to be questioned,' I said quietly.

Mercer nodded, the sympathy in his eyes showing that he understood.

I often think about what I said back then. I have thought about those words, spoken with so much inexperience and innocence, since the moment I first uttered them. I have thought about them and wondered whether I was being truthful, wondered whether I considered my answer deeply enough before I gave it, wondered whether those words actually mirrored my feelings in the years to come…

A few years later, I looked back on that moment and laughed at my naivety. And a few years after that, I looked back on it and wept at my foolishness. But now I simply look back, remember, and sigh.

* * *

It was three months later when I heard the call.

One who has never felt it cannot even begin to imagine how it feels. To be summoned. To be called away by the Daedra. To be forced to fulfil an Oath that was made with words, but sealed by your soul. To have every last inch of the very essence of your being straining to make you move, to make you run and run and run until you reach the place you are being called to. To have every drop of blood in your veins, every bone in your body, every last scrap of sense in your mind burning to leave, to go as fast as it is possible to go, to reach the place you have sworn to protect with your life. To have every thought in your mind enter there for a single purpose and be about only one single subject. The knowledge builds up within you, so powerful that it pounds within your very soul until it is almost a physical pain, until you feel you will burst with the realisation that you are being called, that you have been summoned, that the day is here and the time is _now. _

There is no denying it. No standing against it. There is not a hope in Oblivion that the Nightingale can ignore the call of their Lady when they are summoned to defend her treasure.

The feeling was so sharp and sudden that it jerked me from sleep in the same way that a fisherman jerks a fish that has been foolish enough to take his bait from the water. I lay panting, suddenly breathless although I had not moved a single muscle, my entire body trembling from head to toe. My head was reeling as if it had been kicked by a horse and I could feel my heart thumping frantically against my ribs. A small, involuntary gasp slipped from my mouth before I could stop it and echoed through the dimly lit Cistern, bouncing off the walls and ringing in my ears, as I felt that all-too-familiar pull within me. Every single part of my body was urging to me to get up, to grab my sword, to leave the Cistern without another moment of hesitation. Although the whole world seemed to be spinning around me and my thoughts were a raging turmoil, there was one word which rang out clear and sharp in my mind. One word which drowned out the entire world.

_Nightingale._

I knew. I knew without needing to even think about it. I practically hurled myself out of bed and floundered around in the semi-darkness to find my boots and my sword.

_I call you, Nightingale._

'I know, my Lady. I know,' I muttered under my breath, shoving my sword into my belt. 'I'm going. I swear.'

_Make haste, Nightingale._

The sound of footsteps came so suddenly that my hand flew to the hilt of my weapon as I heard it, but I quickly relaxed, some of the tension draining from my limbs as I saw Blade appear from the shadows, his face drawn and tense. 'You've heard,' he hissed, and from the look in his eyes I knew he felt the same agonising ache to be gone from this place and be at the doors of the Sepulchre. 'She has called us.'

'We have to go. Now,' I agreed, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. 'Before it's too late.'

Blade glanced swiftly around at the slumbering Guild members, the sound of his breathing loud and clear in the quiet. 'We may not be back before morning. We will have to tell them we went on a night-time mission. There is no other explanation we can give.'

I nodded quickly. Too quickly. I hated this feeling, the feeling that I had to go, to do as Nocturnal bade me before I could even think about it. I was never this hasty. I thought through my actions, I was cautious, I was wary. Those who ran fast were the first to fall. But now nothing I did was of my own choosing. My entire life revolved around the Lady of Shadow now.

_Fulfil your Oath, Nightingale!_

Blade winced, baring his sharp, pointed white teeth, and I knew that the voice was plaguing him too. Without any further ado, by some mutual, unspoken agreement, we both turned and ran to the trapdoor entrance, years of practice making our footsteps almost silent. As I clambered up the ladder, flung open the trapdoor and emerged into the deathly quiet of Riften's quiet backstreets, I could feel a slow, steady rage building up within me, growing stronger and stronger with every second that passed. We had to move, we had to go, we had to reach Nightingale Hall. We had to prove ourselves to Nocturnal, stand by our part of the promise we had made to her. We had to protect her sanctuary and the Skeleton Key, and see off the unknown danger that threatened it. We had to kill this intruders, whoever they were, _make them die, make them pay, make them suffer, tear them to pieces and show them that they should never have chosen to desecrate the sacred treasure of Nocturnal – _

I gasped and bit my lip, trying to force the bloodthirsty thoughts from my mind. They were not my own desires, they were the desires of the part of my soul that I had sold to Nocturnal. They were the wishes of the part of me that was pulling me towards the Sepulchre now, the part of me that was straining to _be free of this slow and worthless mortal body, to reach the Hall now and make the defilers pay with their blood and their lives-_

A choking cry escaped me without my bidding. Blade gripped my arm. 'It is hardest the first few times,' he told me quietly as we raced through the streets. 'The more times you are summoned, the easier it becomes to bear.'

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to nod, praying that he was right. My Guildmaster sprinted past me and threw open the city gates. 'Quick. Fetch Ebony and let us go,' he muttered.

There are times when, just as you need to move as quickly as it is in your power to move, the entire world slows down around you and every move you make seems to last a lifetime. But this was not one of them. This was one of those times when the opposite happens, and time speeds up, and it seems like you have hardly even begun what you are doing before you have finished. The time that raced by between the second I swung myself up into Ebony's saddle and dug my heels into my sides to the moment I leaped down from her back and raced towards the door of Nightingale Hall with my blade already shining in my hand could not have been less than twenty minutes. But to me, it seemed to be a single second. The rest of the world had dimmed and faded around me, leaving only the knowledge that Nocturnal was calling me, and my grasp of time had vanished with it.

But now it was returning. Now, as Blade hurled himself against the door to the Hall and rammed it open with all his strength, causing a sharp crash to echo off the side of the cliff, I felt reality rushing back. Now, as I raced through the stone tunnel behind my Guildmaster, the battle blood pounding in my veins, I felt the agony easing. Now, as my hand tightened around the hilt of my sword, I knew that Nocturnal was releasing her grip on me, knowing that I had obeyed her command, knowing that I would stay true to my word.

Blade and I rounded the corner together, emerging into the main chamber of the Hall.

Instantly, I saw heads turn towards us, and the wide eyes of strangers stared up at me in confusion. My jaw clenched and my entire body quivered with anticipation as I looked at them. Ragged armour of fur, hide and leather, cheap weapons of iron and steel. A multitude of races; mostly humans, but elves too, and a single Khajiit. Clearly hired mercenaries, or else bandits. None of them looked to be the sort of people that should know about Nightingale Hall or the Twilight Sepulchre or the Skeleton Key. Save one.

I would have known he was their leader even if he had not been standing at their head. And even if he had not been wearing jet black robes that made him stand out among his comrades like a single snowdrop stands out in the barren wasteland of winter, there was something about the Altmer's face that made me know instantly that this was the one who had brought the others here. His eyes were cold as ice, his face filled with scorn and contempt for every other mortal being, and arrogance seemed to radiate from him in thick, hot waves. I knew instantly what this was about; why these people were here. This mage was the one who had learned of the Key and its power. He had decided to take that power for himself. He had hired these people to come and help him. And now he had entered the Hall, knowing that within it he would find the portal that would take him to the Sepulchre. I didn't know what he had promised these mercenaries, but most likely it was a share in the wealth – one that they would never receive. This kind of person never stayed true to his words.

Blade stepped forwards, his copper eyes burning with rage. 'One move and you die,' he snarled, his entire body trembling with fury.

The mercenaries moved together, lifting their weapons, nocking arrows to bowstrings, charging up spells in their hands. The High Elf stared at us with malevolent glee on his face and lifted his hands to stop his men from advancing further.

'Hold, men,' he ordered, his voice like the scrape of steel on stone. He tilted his head to the side, surveying Blade and I with a mixture of awe and contempt. 'My, my,' he breathed. 'What do we have here?'

Blade's tail swished from side to side, and my eyes narrowed.

'So it's true.' The Altmer let out an exhilarated laugh. 'Everything I read… it's true. You do exist, after all. And she truly can summon you to defend her temple. The Nightingales are real.'

My Guildmaster let out a low, threatening growl. 'Real, and angry.'

'I hoped that it was true, you know,' the Elf continued, as if the Argonian had never spoken. 'I thought that even if it did provide an unwanted interruption, it would prove that all the stories were true. For if the Nightingales exist, the Key exists. And if the Key exists, its power exists. And if its power exists, I can claim that power as my own.'

Blade let out a bark of mirthless laughter. 'So, you too have come to claim it,' he sneered. 'Whispers in the dark have told you where it lies, and now you seek to take it and all its power for yourself.'

The mage smiled, a cruel, wolflike smile.

'But you reckoned without us,' I snapped, stepping forwards beside Blade. 'We are its keepers. Its guardians. Its sentinels.'

Blade nodded. 'If you would take the treasure of the Dark Lady, then you will feel our rage!' he roared.

The mercenaries glanced uneasily at each other, and I saw a few of them take startled paces backwards.

The Altmer looked between us, slowly, carefully, evenly. 'Indeed,' he murmured. 'But you know, everything I've read speaks of a trinity.' The corners of his mouth twitched. 'But I can count only two…'

A thrill of fear ran through me. His words were true. Blade and I stood alone. Strong fighters though we were, we could not hope to win this battle by ourselves. Until Dralsi arrived, we would not fight as a trinity, and until we fought as a trinity, we would never achieve our full strength.

The High Elf lifted his arms. 'These two fools are all that stands between you and an unimaginable fortune!' he roared. 'Kill them!'

A shout of approval rose up from the ranks of the enemy, and they punched the air with their swords. The calm before the storm was over, and the battle was about to begin.

'Gallus, get to the armour stones!' Blade shouted, and hurled himself forwards.

We raced towards our foes, and they lifted their weapons as we neared them. I noticed that they were casting glances at each other and inching awkwardly backwards, and I realised that perhaps being so badly outnumbered could occasionally be beneficial. When you are fighting one-on-one with your enemy, there is no way either of you can avoid the other. You cannot back out, because there is no one else to take your place. But when there is only one foe, and you are surrounded by allies, then it is impossible to think that you do not need to fight. Why not let your comrades take on the enemy? You cannot help but think that you have less need to risk your life if there are others with you.

And such was the case now. The mercenaries hesitated and drew back as we approached, clearly waiting or hoping for the brave ones among their number to step forwards and meet us. Even the Altmer mage did not make any move to attack us, simply stepping back behind his small army and waiting for them to do the work. The result that when we struck, we struck an enemy that did not want to fight us. And because they did not want to fight us, we had the upper hand.

I found myself slipping away into that strange world that is a fight to the death, a world where the rest of the world was unimportant and the only thing that made any sense was my instincts. A Breton swung his axe down towards me, and my arms moved almost of their own accord, carrying out the simply movement I had made so many times before. The axe slammed down on my sword as I brought it up to block the attack. For a few seconds, the two of us pushed againt each other, struggling to gain the upper hand. Then I twisted my blade down and around, breaking free. I leaped back and swung my sword up, cleanly severing the man's neck. His body crashed to the floor, blood spraying through the air.

I heard a rush of air behind me and ducked a moment before a mace narrowly missed my skull. A Nord woman had pushed her way through the throng and was closing in for the kill from behind. My left hand whipped my dagger from its sheath and I lashed out in the mercenary's direction without looking. I felt the blade tear through leather and flesh and I heard a shriek of agony, but I had no time to turn and see whether or not I had killed my opponent. The Guild leathers would not hold out for long against these weapons – they were made to increase ease of movement, not to provide protection from attacks. It was essential that Blade and I reached the armour stones – but if we retreated to the armoury, we would allow the mercenaries access to the room where the portal lay. The portal to the Sepulchre, and the Skeleton Key.

An arrow missed my shoulder by mere inches and as the bandits closed in around me, I realised that we would have to take a risk. We needed our Nightingale armour, and quickly. Even with the enemy reluctant to fight us, we would not last long, outnumbered as we were, without the extra protection it would offer us. The only question was how in the name of Nocturnal we would break through the ranks of the enemy in order to reach the stones – but even as the question arose in my mind, the answer occurred to me.

I gritted my teeth and focused, trying to call up the ancient, dormant energy from within me. The power began to burn through my body, rising up from the depths of my soul and crackling within my blood. I extended my hand towards the strongest looking mercenary I could find – an Orc – and released the energy with a small gasp. There was a flash of red light as the burst of Daedric magic struck the man full in the chest. He staggered backwards with a low grunt of surprise as the red light engulfed him, and the power of the Agent of Subterfuge bent him to my will. With a guttural roar, he whirled around and hurled himself upon his allies, his maces smashing the skull of a Dark Elf and opening up a gaping wound in the chest of a Redguard within seconds. Howls and yells of surprise and shock rose up from the ranks of his comrades, and they shrank back from him in fright, providing me with the perfect opportunity to duck under a battleaxe, dodge another arrow and dart past the mercenaries towards the armour stones.

As I crossed the bridge at full speed, I heard a sudden hissing sound and a moment later, an ice spike exploded on the wooden slats mere inches behind me. Forcing myself to ignore it and keep running, I dashed up the steps into the room that contained the armour stones and the portal to the Sepulchre. I slammed my hand down on my stone and instantly spun around, ready to return to the main chamber. I ignored the strange sensation of the Nightingale armour gradually taking shape on my body as I ran faster than I had ever run before, back to the cavern where Blade was still locked in combat with the invaders. The Orc I had taken over was still tearing into the ranks of the enemy, but I could see the myriad wounds crossing his body and knew that he would not last much longer. I felt a pang of guilt as I realised that I had taken his free will away from him and sent him to his death, but I quickly pushed it down. This was neither the time nor the place to get sentimental.

Blade was bleeding from his left arm, and there was a gash across his face, but otherwise he seemed to be holding his own against the onslaught of foes that was slowly pushing him back. I saw him glance up at me, and I called out to him. 'Leave them to me. Get to the stones.'

The Argonian nodded swiftly and, turning his back on the mercenaries, began to sprint across the bridge. I waited until he had dashed past me before running forwards to meet the bandits, planting myself in the middle of the bridge so that they had no choice but to come at me one at a time. The High Elf mage was locked in combat with the Orc, several of his comrades backing him up, leaving me to face about eight enemies alone.

The first onto the bridge was a Nord, half a head taller than I was, a horned helmet obscuring his face and a war axe and shield gripped tightly in his gauntleted hands. I cursed under my breath, knowing that this man had the strength to knock me over within seconds if I allowed him to reach me. I was still clutching my dagger in my left hand, and now I hopped a pace backwards, took careful aim and threw it. It snapped through the air and sank into the side of the man's neck. He twisted in mid-stride and collapsed with a wordless, agonised cry.

One enemy down. But now I had lost the only long-range weapon I possessed.

An arrow shot through the air towards me, and I had no time to dodge. If I had been wearing my Guild armour, it would have struck my heart for certain. As it was, it bounced harmlessly off my armour, the iron tip cracked. Its firer, a Wood Elf woman, began racing towards me, readying another arrow as she came, but as she neared me she stumbled over the corpse of the fallen Nord. Her feet were knocked from under her and she fell with a thud onto the wooden planks. Within an instant, I was standing over her, driving my sword down into her back. She stiffened and cried out, then sank down with a small sigh, the light dying from her eyes as the life faded from her body.

A flash of movement caught my eye, and a moment later, a sudden, sharp pain took me by surprise, and I staggered backwards with an agonised cry. A small war axe fell to the floor next to me, blood painted on its blade, and I realised that someone had thrown it with enough force to cut through my armour and slice open a narrow wound in my shoulder. I winced and tried my best to block out the pain, but it was a hopeless effort.

_Where in the name of Oblivion is Dralsi?_

'Gallus, duck!'

It was Blade's voice, so I didn't waste time in looking to see why, but simply obeyed his command and crouched down, breathing hard. I heard the sound of footsteps pounding on stone, and then suddenly Blade had launched himself from the steps and was leaping clean over my head. The Argonian landed flawlessly on the bridge and ran towards the mercenaries on the other side without a second of hesitation. The Khajiit, the one who had thrown the axe, gave a shriek of fear as the Argonian's sword came towards him. He ducked, and the sword slashed open the chest of the Imperial standing behind him. The Khajiit straightened up, only to receive a hefty thump from Blade's tail that sent him sprawling. He tried to clamber to his feet, but slipped on the blood of his allies and fell from the bridge into the water below with a screech.

Blade had reached the other side now, and was battling against a Nord and a Dunmer at once. I rushed forwards to help him, only to find my path blocked by a second Orc, a woman this time. Her tusked face twisted with loathing as she pulled back her bowstring, ready to fire. Pain shot through my body from the wound in my shoulder as I threw myself to the side just in time. The arrow missed me by inches and instead struck the bandit who had been closing in on me from behind, felling him instantly. The Orc gave a snarl of frustration and threw her bow aside, snatching up a sword from one of her fallen friends. I lunged forwards and our blades locked together. For a moment, I stared into her hate-filled green eyes. Then she drew back her fist and punched me in the shoulder, right on my wound.

I cried out with pain and fury and dropped my sword before I could stop myself. The Orc gave a hiss of triumph and swung her blade towards my neck. Knocked off balance, weaponless, and paralysed with agony, I could only watch helplessly as the sword came towards me.

And then suddenly there was black-feathered arrow in the Orc's heart, and she was crumpling to the ground, the life wiped from her body.

I spun around, to see another mercenary fall, a second shaft protruding from his throat. I felt a smile flickering over my face as I recognised the woman who stood at the entrance to the cave, an expression of grim determination on her face, her crimson eyes narrowed and burning with fury.

The third Nightingale had arrived at last.

Forgetting my pain, I summoned the last of my strength and snatched up my sword. 'Dralsi!' I called in delight.

'Evening, Gallus,' she chuckled, smoothly felling another bandit. 'Having trouble?'

Blade swiftly decapitated his opponent, grinning. 'You're late, Elf.'

'My deepest and most heartfelt apologies, oh Guildmaster,' Dralsi replied, an edge of amusement in her voice. 'I'll be sure to make more haste next time. It's good to see you're so grateful.'

Her bowstring sang out, and another mercenary crashed to the ground. An Imperial like myself was racing towards me with his sword raised, and I forced myself to return to the battle, blocking his strike, knocking his sword from his hand with the flick-and-twist move that Blade had taught me all that time ago, and driving my blade into his neck. Weary and wounded though I was, I kept fighting, steadily pushing my enemies back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Khajiit fleeing the Hall with two of his fellows following, saw Dralsi shooting down yet another mercenary, saw Blade fell his adversary and run forwards to do battle with the Altmer, who had until now hung back, letting his fighters do the work for him. Now the elven mage conjured a ward with his left hand and readied a ball of fire in his right. 'Come and face your death, lizard!' he roared.

Blade did not reply, simply lunging in and slashing at the ward. The mage flicked his hand, and a purple vortex opened up beside me. A flame atronach burst from the ball of energy, its heat making droplets of sweat form on my forehead. I ducked quickly as it sent a fireball towards my head. The magic seared through the air and exploded against the wall behind me, sending a banner up in flames. Dralsi fired at the creature, and her arrow struck it, causing it to reel backwards, but the shaft quickly caught fire and began to burn away. I lashed out at the atronach's head, opening up a narrow gash, but a moment later its arm swung forwards, catching me in the stomach. Even through my armour, the heat scalded my skin, and I let out a strangled cry, doubling over from the pain. Another of Dralsi's arrows buried itself in the atronach, this time scoring a direct hit on its eye. The creature drew backwards, flinging out its arms, its flames growing brighter until the consumed its entire body. I struggled to stand, knowing what was coming. I heard Dralsi breaking into a run, and a moment later the Dunmer woman grasped hold of me and pulled me backwards with seconds to spare. The atronach exploded, sending bolts of flame flying in all directions. If Dralsi had not managed to pull me out of the way, I would surely have been caught in the blast, and quite possibly killed.

But even as the gasp of relief slipped from my mouth, there was a screech of pure, wordless agony from behind us.

I spun around. Blade was on his knees on the floor, flames licking over his armour. His sword hung loosely in his hand. The Altmer stood over him, a vicious cut on his cheek pouring with blood, scarlet streaks crossing his robes, an expression of triumph and scorn on his face.

The Elf drew back his hand, lightning crackling at his fingertips. Dralsi gasped and reached for an arrow. I tried to stand, but I couldn't summon the strength.

The Altmer fired the spell. Lightning lanced through the air.

A moment later, he fell to the ground, Dralsi's arrow through his throat.

The mage crashed onto the stones and lay in a steadily-growing pool of his own blood, writhing, gasping, his hands clutching at the air, his struggles slowly growing weaker and weaker as death closed in to claim him.

But Blade, knocked down by the force of the burst of flame that had hit him as the atronach died, and unable to move aside, lifted his head, closed his eyes and calmly let the lightning strike him. And strike him it did, smashing into his chest, lifting him into the air and hurling him backwards across the room. For a moment, he was suspended in the air. And then he smashed into a wall, crumpled at the base, and lay still.

The Altmer's eyes glazed over, and with a soft moan, he breathed his last.

Blade did not stir.

From what seemed to be a million worlds away, I dimly heard Dralsi screaming the Argonian's name. I vaguely registered the fact that I had pulled myself to my feet and was stumbling across the floor to where my Guildmaster lay huddled at the foot of the wall, his eyes closed. Without thinking about my actions, I suddenly found myself on my knees beside my mentor and brother, calling out to him again and again.

'Blade!' I more or less roared, staring at him with wide eyes. 'Blade!'

The copper eyes flickered open, slowly travelling up until they found mine. A small, pained smile crossed the beige-scaled face.

'I always hoped that it would end this way,' he murmured, a dreamlike expression in his eyes. 'I always wanted to die in battle. With my hand on my sword. Living up to my name.' He chuckled softly. 'It seems that Nocturnal and the Hist heard my prayers…'

Dralsi reached forwards, tenderly laying her hand on top of his. She made no move to reach for her potions, and that was when I knew that it was hopeless. The realisation struck me so hard and fast and painfully that I felt as if I had been punched in the chest. Dralsi would never not attempt to save an injured friend unless there was no saving them. Unless there was nothing to be done. Unless they were already on their way to join their ancestors.

When I was eight years old, I watched a friend die. I watched the death of a man who I had thought of as my brother, who I had thought was unbeatable. I had heard Gurak's final breath die away, seen the light die from his eyes. I had watched as he left Nirn behind forever. I remembered how I had begged and pleaded, desperately trying to persuade him to hold on to life. Now, as I stared at Blade, lying on the ground in front of me, calmly accepting his end, I knew that there was no point in asking him to live. Because if there was no way to save him, and if he was ready to die, then there was nothing that words could do to stop him from dying.

But that knowledge only deepened the pain. This was the man who had taught me how to use a sword, who had been my teacher since the day Dralsi left the Guild. It was by Blade's side that I had succeeded in countless missions and battled too many foes to count. He and I had shared a drink and a chat in the Flagon, discussing our family, our missions, the best way to use a weapon. Blade had stood by me as I took the Oath of the Nightingale. He had helped me to take on the role of the Guild's second, and readied me to one day take on the position of Guildmaster. Blade had always been there, right from the beginning, from the day he and Dralsi and Sereniel had welcomed me into the Guild. Blade was not just my Guildmaster. He was the Guild. And he was my brother.

The Argonian's hand reached out weakly. 'My sword…' he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I understood without him needing to say anything more. With shaky steps, I crossed the floor to where Blade's beautiful weapon lay on the stones, its bloodstained blade shimmering in the torchlight. I picked it up in numb hands and carried it over to my teacher's side. He smiled at me and grasped hold of the hilt, clutching it tightly to his chest.

'Thank you,' he murmured.

I tried to speak. But my throat was too tight, and the words came out as a sob.

'Dralsi,' Blade whispered, lifting his head. 'You have my gratitude. For everything. For all the times we shared together. My sister. My friend.'

The Dark Elf nodded, tears flowing freely down her face. 'It is I who must thank you, brother,' she replied, her voice twisted and choked.

The Argonian's body convulsed, and a small, wordless cry escaped him. Dralsi reached for her potion satchel, and I saw her fingers close around one of her pain-numbing brews, but Blade raised his hand, and she stopped.

He turned his head to me. 'Gallus…'

'Blade?' I whispered, and my voice was barely audible.

The copper eyes burned into mine. 'I want you to take my sword when I am gone. You are more than worthy to be its bearer. Wield it with honour. And with pride.'

There was no hesitation in his voice. And Blade was my Guildmaster, my leader. I had ever obeyed his commands. And I would obey this one too. I had often dreamed of owning a sword like Blade's but… I had never wanted it to be given to me in this way.

'You are young, but you are strong, and you are wise.' The Argonian swallowed. 'You will lead the Guild, Gallus. You will lead them bravely. You will lead them well.'

'I can't.' The words were so strangled I could barely recognise my own voice. 'Not without you.'

His expression was so sympathetic, so kind. 'Gallus. Gallus Desidenius. Wise beyond your years and gifted beyond your training. Trusted by many and respected by all. And yet still you doubt your worth.' He chuckled that familiar, soft, husky chuckle. 'You are their leader now, my brother. Take care of them. And don't forget…'

He paused, sucking in air. 'Don't forget. Body… angled to the side. Eyes…'

'Eyes on the sword.' I smiled at him through my tears. 'I won't forget, Blade. Never. I promise.'

His gaze travelled away from my face. 'You know, I never wanted anything more than this,' he breathed. 'To serve the Guild. To serve Nocturnal. To serve with my strength and my honour and my blood. And to one day give my life for them. And to give it in battle. As a warrior.'

'You did, Blade,' Dralsi assured him quietly, pushing a few of his glossy brown feathers away from his eyes. 'You did.'

His smile grew wider, his expression more dreamy. 'It was all I ever wanted,' he repeated. 'For so many years. Since the moment I was told the identity of my soul. Since the moment I was confirmed as a fighter. Since the moment, after all those years of namelessness, I was given the name that told me who I was.' He shuddered, but his smile remained, and his eyes were shining. 'Since they brought me before them, looked into my soul, and named me… Draws-His-Blade…'

The copper eyes clouded, their light dimming away, and his head slowly sank onto the floor. His horns clinked against the stone, and the sound of his final sigh faded away into silence.

Dralsi and I kneeled by his body, watching our tears fall down onto the smooth beige scales. I looked at his face, still so serene, so calm, still curved into a smile. There was blood matting the dark tawny feathers, and somehow I felt it was important to reach out and brush the dark red liquid away.

As I leaned back, I saw my tear-streaked and blood-streaked face reflected on the surface of his sword. Somehow, it was that which made me begin to cry in earnest. The knowledge that I was the owner of that weapon now. That never again would its true owner live up to his name and draw it from its sheath.

Draws-His-Blade, my mentor, friend and brother, was gone. Utterly gone.

I buried my face in my hands and wept, and Dralsi slipped her arm around my shoulders and held me close, her own body wracked with silent sobs. I cannot say how long we remained there, neither of us speaking, merely holding the other close for comfort, as our friend lay still and silent before us, the ghost of that final smile still spread across his face.

When I finally pulled away from Dralsi's embrace, I found that I could do nothing but gaze at Blade's unmoving form. It was hard to believe that his spirit and soul were no longer there, that he was lost forever. I did not want to believe it.

'What am I going to do?' I found myself whispering.

The Dunmer woman placed her hand on my shoulder. 'What he trusted you to do,' she murmured gently. 'Lead the Guild. Lead them bravely. Lead them well.'

'I'm not ready.' I stared at her with wide eyes, feeling like the child I had been the day she brought me into the Guild for the first time. 'I'm not sure I ever will be.'

'Nocturnal would not have taken Blade if she did not feel you were ready to take his place as Guildmaster,' she replied softly. 'She thinks you are ready. Blade thought you were ready. And so do I.'

She carefully prised Blade's sword from his hands and lifted it away from his body. 'Carry on his legacy, Gallus,' she whispered, holding out the weapon to me. 'Make him proud.'

Slowly, tentatively, I reached out for the sword. My hand hovered over it for a few moments. Closing my eyes, I slowly wrapped my fingers around the handle and took it from the Dunmer's hand.

As I knelt there, gazing numbly into the silvery metal, Dralsi leaned down and closed Blade's eyes.

* * *

_25__th__ of Frostfall_

_Blade is dead._

_He fell, defending the Twilight Sepulchre. He died as he lived, in battle, for the Guild. I feel like I should say so much more, but… there are no words to describe how I feel. Draws-His-Blade, our Guildmaster, our brother, our friend, our teacher, our guardian, is gone forever. I know that one day, we will meet again, in the shadows, but… it doesn't make it any easier to bear. The Cistern seems empty now without him practicing sword strokes on the dummies, and I can't watch Elandine cast her spells now, because it just reminds me of that mage, sending that lightning bolt at Blade and throwing him backwards, smashing him against the wall…_

_I will always miss him. I will miss him so much._

_But I have no time to mourn. Blade is gone, and there is nought to be done about it now. He is defending the Twilight Sepulchre now, with Sereniel. And now he is dead, I am Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves Guild. I must pull these grieving mortals together and lead them on. As he lay dying, Blade told me to take his sword. When I took that weapon in my hands, I took on not just a piece of metal but on a heavy burden of responsibility. I took upon the weight of the leadership of the Guild. They look to me for guidance now._

_I still do not feel I am ready. But I have no choice. _

_I was formally given the position this morning. And I have chosen Mercer as my second in command, because I trust no one more. To be sure, he can be impulsive and reckless, but he is growing less so. And should anything happen to me, I know that he will lead the Guild wisely and well. I trust his judgement and skill._

_I must move past the wounds that Blade's loss has dealt me, for I have another duty to fulfil this night. Dralsi and I have both agreed that Mercer must take Blade's place as Nightingale. He is far less deep-thinking than is ideal for an Agent of Nocturnal, but that does not matter. His loyalty is unwavering and his skill in battle is unmatched by almost anyone. Tonight, we shall travel to the Hall and induct him into the Trinity._

_I have little will to write more. I must stop dwelling in the past now and move on to the future. The Guild needs me, and my brothers and sisters need me, and the Nightingales need me. It is time for me to take upon the responsibility that Blade and Sereniel and Dralsi prepared me for all these years. If this is a part of my fate that I determined myself through my own choices, then I shall hope that I can continue to make decisions that are right for the Guild. And if the Divines or Nocturnal herself chose this for me, then so be it. I may not be ready to take upon the responsibility, but I am willing._

_My old life lies behind me now. I have long since put aside the child who lived in fear of his father's fury, but now I must learn to turn my back also upon the normal thief of the Guild. Because I have a higher purpose now, and I am a different man._

_And because it would not feel right to finish this entry without a tribute to my fallen brother, I will say this. Draws-His-Blade of Black Marsh, you will never be forgotten. Your name shall always be honoured, and I pray that your spirit has found peace._

_Eyes open, my brother. Walk with the shadows._

Very slowly, I pushed the journal shut and laid my quill down beside me. I tucked it away into my pocket, got to my feet, and looked out over the Flagon.

Elandine was at her enchanting table, holding up a soul gem. Mercer was sitting on a crate, cleaning his sword. Manji sat draped over Fjella's shoulders, and Fjella was sitting with Farmund holding her hand. Ahsla was comforting Tonilia. Sranys and Elruen were filling the training dummies with arrows. Delvin, Dar'zha and Ma'rhaz chinked their tankards of mead together before tipping them down their throats.

Life went on, as ever. And no matter what hardships we had to face, I knew that the Guild – _my _Guild – would endure.

I picked up Blade's sword, my sword, resting on the table in front of me, and tucked it into its sheath at my waist. Then I pushed my hair out of my eyes and went to fetch Mercer. This was not a time for sitting and dwelling on the past. I had to leave my old life behind and accept my new duties and my new power. No matter how much I grieved for my lost brother, or doubted my own abilities, it was time to move on.

I had a Guild to lead.

* * *

END OF BOOK TWO


	23. Stranger

**Hello, readers, and welcome to Book Three!**

**Can I just say a massive thank you to ShoutFinder, who supplied the idea for Sranys's fate, and was kind enough to let me borrow a character from _The Huntress - _which I strongly recommend you read, if you haven't already! It's amazing!**

**'Nightingale's Talon' is the name of the unique enchantment on Gallus's sword. So, using a little artistic license, that's what I've named the sword itself.**

**Apologies**** for the massive diary entry, but it was kind of necessary. This chapter was originally going to be a lot longer, but I took the decision to split it into two. So, I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

BOOK THREE – GUILDMASTER

_Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail._

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

_5__th__ of __Evening Star_

_My name is Gallus Desidenius. I am twenty six years old. I am the son of Iratus and Perdita, the brother of Prosperus and Marcella, a Nightingale of Nocturnal, and the Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves Guild._

_Yes. That is the best way to start. With the truth. A new journal, a new life, a new beginning, needs to start with the truth. And that is the simple and honest truth, because almost everything that makes me who I am is contained within those sentences. _

_It was Dralsi, of course, who gave me this book. It's the eleventh volume of my life story – or is it the twelfth? There have been many, for I've seen several years on this world of Nirn, and what with the life I lead, there is plenty to write about. I began when I was, I think, aged about ten. Sometimes I look back upon what that innocent young boy wrote, look at those pages of wobbly Falmer letters and blots of ink, and I cannot help but smile to myself. For in some ways, he seems a complete stranger to me, yet he is alike me in so many others. Even then, he could write the language of the Falmer fluently. Even then, his loyalty to the Guild ran deeper than the most bottomless ocean. Even then, he knew that he was somehow different from other people, that there had never been anyone quite like him before, and there never would be again…_

_I am older, wise, stronger and braver now. I have learned much. I have seen friends die and I have seen foes defeated. I have thrown myself into countless battles. I have stolen many, many items which did not belong to me, but of course, that is my job. I have taken many lives, and I have saved some. I have taken and I have given. I have come a long, long way from the child who first entered the Cistern on the morning of his seventh birthday._

_Life has been cruel to me many times. It has taken away people who I thought of as my brothers and sisters – Gurak, Orthwin, Sereniel, Sabinus, Silent, Whisper, Blade… and now even Farmund, Fjella, Manji and Sranys have gone since last I set quill to parchment. But then, it has been some time since last I had a chance to write, for my previous volume was so full I could not cram in another word. And though I tried to write it elsewhere, somehow it didn't seem right not to be writing in a proper journal. So for some months now, I have not had any chance to write about the events of my life. But now that Dralsi has given me this tome, I will._

_Where to begin? I have been leader of this Guild for some years now. Sometimes, I feel like I have been Guildmaster for far, far longer, and yet at others it seems like only minutes ago Blade was lying on the bloodstained floor in Nightingale Hall, bequeathing his sword to me. I have that sword resting beside me now. Often, I take it from its sheath and spend whole minutes doing nothing but gazing at it, marveling at its beauty, and thinking about everything that it means._

_How can a sword mean anything? That is what many people would think if they could read this, I am certain. But I know that there is meaning in this blade. It is more than an inanimate piece of metal, an object created to hack and slash and kill. No, my sword was given to me by Draws-His-Blade, my brother and mentor, as he lay dying. Some of his final words were an instruction for me to take it. And so I did take it, and now it is mine._

_When Blade gave me this weapon – Nightingale's Talon, as I call it - he gave me so much more than his sword. He gave me his position, his duties, his responsibilities, his entire life. The decisions I once looked to Blade to make are now mine. I organise the distribution of jobs and missions, I have to work out where in Skyrim we must strike next, I choose whether new recruits are worthy of joining us, and if they are, who becomes their mentor. I am the one who represents this Guild and I am responsible for keeping them together. Back when I was second in command, I often thought to myself that without Blade, our entire family would collapse, that he _was _the Guild. And now, in the same way, I am the Guild._

_Do I regret it? Not in the slightest. The Guild has been my entire life since the day I first joined them. To be their leader, to be honoured and respected by them all, to be trusted to take care of them and to make decisions that could decide whether they live or die… of course it is daunting. But it also makes me proud, prouder than I can possibly say. To be Guildmaster is a great honour. My brothers and sisters trust me to lead them. And I will prove myself worthy of that trust, or I will die in the attempt. _

_And in truth, adapting to the role has been far easier than I had anticipated. Blade, Sereniel and Dralsi were all grooming me for this for years, really. Everything they did, every lesson they taught me, was a subtle preparation for the day when I would finally don this black leather armour and take over leadership. Over the years that I was deputy, Blade allowed me to help him with the organisation of the Guild more and more. It was not actually all that great a change, when I finally had to do it all for myself._

_Did I say all? Well, that is far from the truth. I have a crew of loyal Guild siblings at my command, I have my senior members, Ahsla and Elandine, to help me, and best of all, I have my deputy, Mercer Frey. Mercer, who became my greatest friend only minutes after we first met. Mercer, who I trust above everybody else. Mercer, who rose quickly as lightning through the ranks of the Guild and who has never, never let me down. He is always there to help me when the going gets tough, and I know that if anything happens to me, he will be more than capable of looking after the others._

_And he is also the third Nightingale now, the Agent of Stife. And to be honest, it suits him. Explaining the Nightingales to him, everything about Nocturnal, the Twilight Sepulchre, the Skeleton Key… that was one of the most difficult conversations of my life. Mercer is a very practically minded man, and on top of that, he's very independent. Loyal as he is to the Guild, I think he liked the knowledge, just as I did before I took the Oath, that if he wanted to, he could theoretically leave us and move on to a new life without repercussions if he ever wanted to. Not that I believe he would, of course. But Dralsi and I worried him somewhat when we began using phrases such as 'unbreakable Oath' and 'bound to Nocturnal in both life and death.' _

'_I am not using my soul as a currency,' I believe his exact words were. 'It's mine, and it belongs to me. I freely admit that it's not the best soul. But it is at least mine.'_

_Dralsi rolled her eyes. 'Mercer, there must be three Nightingales in the Trinity, and you are the only one ready to take on the position. I assure you, we gain much from this agreement. We are given the protection of Nocturnal, the powers of the Nightingale Agents, and an assured place in Evergloam. In return, we simply guard the Twilight Sepulchre. I see little for you to protest about.'_

_Mercer looked at me, and I shrugged. 'To be honest, Mercer, I felt the same way at first, but all the same, I came around eventually. I've never regretted becoming a Nightingale. What exactly is your problem with all of this?'_

'_Problem?' I remember he more or less yelped. 'My problem is simple! My problem is that I am giving my soul – which I very much consider to be mine and mine alone, despite the fact that it's a little on the shady side – to a being who can do absolutely whatever she wants with it. Remind me, is this the Daedric Prince who has been described as cold, manipulative, completely unable to understand the ways of mortals, unforgiving and ruthless?'_

'_That's the one,' I confirmed. 'If you don't feel you're up to it, Mercer, we can always go and find somebody else…'_

'_Who said anything about not being up to it? I'll show you I'm Gods-damned well up to it!'_

_I know that Breton far too well._

_So eventually, Mercer did indeed take the Oath, although even that in itself was something of a struggle. The conversation was a little… strained, if I remember rightly. _

_'I see that you have brought another forward to complete the Trinity, Nightingales.'_

'_You see correctly.'_

'_Mercer, show some respect!'_

'_Why in the name of Oblivion do I need to show respect to a blob of weird purple mist with a spooky voice, Indoril?'_

'_This 'blob of weird purple mist with a spooky voice' is perfectly capable of striking you down where you stand, foolish mortal, and is sorely tempted to do so.'_

'_Ha! So, you admit that you are a blob of mist?'_

_Luckily, however, it did improve somewhat from there, and eventually Nocturnal agreed to make him a Nightingale. In truth, I think his fierce spirit and determination pleased her, although she was clearly less than impressed by his impertinence. I think he was trying to cover up the fact that he was actually really quite nervous by being as rude as possible. Still, that's Mercer. He'd rather die than allow himself to show any sign of weakness._

_So the Nightingales are restored, as is the leadership of the Guild. What else has happened since last I wrote? Well, I have lost three brothers and a sister. Farmund and Fjella left, as we suspected they would, taking Manji with them. They said they would miss us all, and they did not want to leave, but they needed to be a family, a proper family of their own. And, just like Dralsi, they think that the Guild is not a place for family life. I will miss them, miss them terribly, but I believe they made the right choice. _

_Having said that, I'm not too sure about how much I'll miss Manji. Well, I didn't mean that really, but I can't forget what he did the day Farmund and Fjella left. Gods almighty, did that cat give us trouble! Fjella had packed all her things and was ready to say goodbye to everyone when suddenly she realised that Manji was missing. We all hunted up and down the Cistern, looking in every corner. Fjella was frantic, and understandably so, because Manji's well past his prime and anything could have happened to him. But eventually, we found him. He'd hidden inside Fjella's bag earlier, not wanting to leave. And of course, she'd shut him inside the thing before she realised he was there. And nobody noticed until Delvin accidentally sat on the bag. And on Manji. Well, Delvin let the cat out of the bag (no pun intended there, I assure you) and yelled to everyone that he'd found Manji. Manji retaliated by scratching him and running. We chased him around the Cistern five times before Elandine finally had the idea of casting a frostbite spell on the ground in front of him, making him slip. Fjella scooped him up and – to everyone's amazement, told him he was a 'good boy.'_

_So yes, in a way, I am glad to see the back of that mad cat._

_It was a lot more painful to lose Sranys. I wish now that I had known that Dark Elf better. The story of his departure is one I think has to be told in detail._

_We received a request from the Black-Briar family for the Guild to send some agents to Jorrvaskr. I'm not entirely sure why we needed to, but I believe the Companions had done something to damage their meadery in some way or other, and so they had to be taught a lesson. I was away in Winterhold, paying a visit to Enthir, so Mercer handled the giving of the job. And without realising how much it would affect him, he gave the task to Sranys. And because Sranys has such a true and kind heart, he did not want to make Mercer feel foolish by reminding him of his bindings to Jorrvaskr. And so he accepted._

_I had some small business to attend to in Whiterun, so I took the long road back from Winterhold, passing through the tundra so as to visit the city before I continued on to Riften. And it was lucky that I did, for whilst in the city, I encountered Sranys standing in front of the entrance to Jorrvaskr, staring at the legendary hall with an expression that made it seem as if his world had fallen apart._

_Of course, I approached him and asked him what was wrong. And he explained the cause for which he had been sent. 'It has never troubled me when others have stolen from the Companions, for I myself was never guilty,' he admitted. 'But I have never had to do so myself. I have kin within these walls. How can I betray my own family?'_

_I was his Guildmaster, and I knew that there was only one thing to do. 'This is our mission; we have no choice but to go through with it now that we have agreed to it,' I told him. 'But I cannot ask you to do such a thing. I will do it in your place. Wait for me here.'_

_Numbly, the Dunmer nodded, and while he waited by the Gildergreen, I snuck into the fabled hall. Never before had I been inside, and never before had I felt so guilty and ashamed of myself for attempting a task. The people who dwelt in this place were honourable people, good and brave warriors. Gurak and Orthwin had once drank mead at these tables and slept in these beds and sang songs of valour with these fighters. It felt like a dishonour to them to be here. And I was afraid of what Sranys would think of me if I were to succeed. Would he be grateful that I had completed the task that he had not felt able to accomplish, or angry at me for the crime I had carried out against a member of his own flesh and blood?_

_I decided to snatch a few valuables, carve the Guild symbol into something and get out quickly. It was late, and the hall was deserted, its warriors slumbering. I thought that I would not be caught. But occasionally, even the greatest thief can become the victim of an unlucky twist of fate, and Nocturnal chose that moment to turn her back on me. Even as I reached out for a jewel-encrusted goblet, a door swung open, and I, seeing a dark figure emerging, fled._

_I was nearer the back entrance, so that was the one I made for, but I did not move quickly enough to escape detection. Even as I sprinted up the steps that led to the Skyforge, I could hear the footsteps of the Companion coming after me, and the sound of two blades being drawn from their sheathes. I had not stolen a single item, so in truth I had not committed any crime except breaking and entering (which wasn't even worthy of a jail sentence) but I had a sneaking suspicion that attempting to explain that to the warrior would be futile. And so I ran. _

_Divines only know what might have happened eventually had I kept running, but as I passed the Skyforge I heard a voice calling out to me. 'Stop running like an elk fleeing a wolf and face me as a warrior if you dare, coward!'_

_This is… a small failing of mine. If I had an ounce of sense, I would have ignored him and continued to flee. But there are three things I simply cannot stand being called. One is traitor. The second is stupid. And the third is coward._

_And so, like the fool that I am, I stopped running. And my alarm was replaced by anger. I found myself thinking that this warrior had surely never faced a Daedric Prince, nor defended the Skeleton Key or the Twilight Sepulchre. He had no right to call me a coward. And so I turned around, drew my sword and faced him._

_Before I could even get a close look at him, he was upon me, and our blades were meeting. I freely admit that he was skilled with his swords. He used them in a very different way to me. My fighting style is precise, neat, orderly. His strikes flowed like wind or river water. In fact, he used his weapons in much the same way that Blade used to…_

_I do not know how long we fought. Nor do I know who would have won in the end, for that fight never reached its conclusion. As the stranger raised his swords, ready to bring them down in a vicious, slicing motion towards my neck, I heard a familiar voice echo through the night. 'Ornith, stop!'_

_And the warrior of the Companions froze as if he had been turned to ice._

_Very slowly, he lowered his swords, and I saw him properly for the first time. And the instant I looked upon his face – a face with ash-grey skin and ruby-red eyes – I knew exactly who he was._

'_Uncle Sranys?' he breathed, his eyes wide as two crimson suns._

'_Ornith,' my Guild brother replied, anguish shining in his eyes. 'Please, don't hurt him.'_

_The two Dark Elves stood there, neither of them moving or speaking. Thief and warrior gazed at each other as if they could not believe what they were seeing, until finally I broke the silence. 'Sranys, this is your nephew?'_

_He nodded. 'This is Ornith, my sister's son.'_

_Ornith continued to gaze at him, then finally sheathed his swords. And I did the same, because I knew that I was not going to be needing it._

'_I thought you were dead.' The younger of the two elves shook his head in amazement. 'I thought the eruption killed you.'_

'_And I thought the same about you,' Sranys replied._

_Silence descended upon the pair of them._

'_Forgive me, nephew. This was my job, my task.' Sranys swallowed hard. 'It was entrusted to me, but I could not do it myself, so I stood back like a coward and let Gallus risk his life instead. I should never have accepted the mission to begin with. This is my fault.'_

_The Companion looked at his uncle, then at me. 'Nothing was taken?' he asked softly._

_I shook my head. _

_Ornith stared at Sranys with cold eyes. 'So you joined the Thieves Guild,' he said icily._

_Sranys did not flinch under his kinsman's anger. 'It was where my path led me. I could never have felt at home among those such as the Companions. You know that I was never one to be bound by such solid rules. I've always valued my freedom far too much. I'm not like you.'_

_Dunmer looked at Dunmer again for a heart-freezing moment. As the seconds ticked on by, I found myself wondering if I had been wrong after all, if I would need to draw my sword and intervene. _

_Then finally Ornith dropped his gaze and dipped his head. 'It would be a lie to say I agreed with your choice. But your life is your own to live, and your decisions are yours to make.'_

_I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Sranys stepped forwards and tentatively placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder. I half expected Ornith to shrug it away, but instead he looked up at my Guild brother and smiled._

'_Words cannot express my joy at seeing you alive,' he said quietly. 'No matter what the circumstances.'_

_As the two embraced, I suddenly felt as if I were intruding on something private. I had no place there. Telling Sranys I would await him by the Gildergreen, I left the two alone, and I think they were glad of it._

_Some time later, Sranys came to find me. He thanked me for all I had done and we made our way to the city gates in silence._

_It was not until we were well on the road back to Riften that he explained the rest of the story to me. The Dunmer family had lived in Morrowind before the eruption of Red Mountain. Sranys was always seen as the black sheep of the family, and as something of a rebel, but he was always close to his nephew and niece – Ornith, and his sister Nava. When the two were children. Sranys had told them many a tale of warriors from the past, and how they had survived against the impossible odds thrown in their way – and these stories were later to save their lives. Sranys had not been with the rest of the family when Red Mountain erupted – had had been some miles away, visiting a friend. Upon the eruption, he tried to find his kin, but the mountain's fire blocked his path. With a heavy heart, believing his family to be dead, Sranys left Morrowind and came to Skyrim._

_Ornith and Nava, meanwhile, had been abandoned by their family after the eruption. Like Sranys, they had fled Vvardenfell, and as it turned out, the stories he had told them when they were younger had become their key to survival. Perhaps a hundred and fifty years later, two members of the Companions chanced upon the Dark Elves, and Ornith travelled to Skyrim, to Jorrvaskr, with them, whilst Nava remained in Narsis. Ornith had thought that Sranys had perished, but now the two had found each other again._

_I hoped that knowing that his kin were safe, and that Ornith, though he disliked Sranys's decision, did not question it, and wished him luck in his life with the Guild, would give Sranys joy. But I could not have been more wrong. In the weeks that followed, I noticed how downcast and unhappy he looked. There was clearly something weighing on his mind, and I was not surprised when, upon my asking, he told me that his encounter with Ornith had made him question his place in the Guild. 'I never regretted my choice for all these years,' he told me. 'But now… I'm not sure if it's right for me to be here. I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if I'd chosen a similar path to Ornith.' He blinked, and looked at me sharply. 'Do you think me foolish, Gallus? Never questioning whether I'd chosen the right path until now, when I've been loyal to the Guild for so long?'_

_I shook my head. 'No. Of course I don't think that.' I thought of Marcella, the only member of my family I had ever loved after my mother's death. If she were still living, what would she think of my position in the Thieves Guild? 'If I were ever to see my sister again, I'm sure I'd feel the same way.'_

'_But I've been here for years, and I've never thought that I was doing wrong until now. And I've loved it here. But now I just can't get the thought that I could have lived so differently out of my head. Maybe I'd have a wife, children, a home of my own.' He buried his face in his hands. 'I love the Guild, Gallus. And I know that even if we are criminals, we're not bad people and the Guild does not exist for a bad purpose. Skyrim needs us. But since I saw Ornith, I've been missing Morrowind more and more. And I can't stop thinking that I could have chosen an honest life, like Ornith. And maybe I still can.'_

_My heart sank as he said the final words, for I knew what he meant. And he did try, he truly did try to forget what had happened, oust the thoughts from his mind and move on. But there are times when everything changes, and we can do nothing to stop it. I cannot say whether it was his own conscience that led to Sranys making the decision he did, or whether the Divines themselves had decided that there was some other destiny in wait for the Dunmer back in Morrowind. But after some months, he gave up his attempt. His heart was no longer in his work. It had returned to his homeland, and so he returned to seek it. There was sorrow in his voice, but no hesitation, as he told me that he was returning home. And he rode away from Riften with shining eyes._

_I miss him, like I miss Farmund and Fjella, like I miss Blade and Sereniel and Sabinus and Silent and Gurak and Orthwin. But three of the Guild brothers and sisters I have lost are safe from all harm now. One is in eternal paradise with his ancestors, in whatever place Orcs go to when they die, and the others guard the Twilight Sepulchre, and in doing so protect the Guild in death as once they did in life. And as for the others… I know not what has become of Orthwin and Sabinus, both of whom severed all their ties to the Guild when they left. But wherever they are, I ask the Divines to bless them. And Fjella, Farmund, Silent and Sranys have sent us letters from time to time. They are all happy, and they are all safe. They all loved the time they spent with us, but I know that they all made the right choice when they left us behind._

_And just as we have lost members, we have gained them too. Elruen, Sereniel's nephew and Sranys's apprentice, is at the archery range now, and he has the wit and the skills of both his aunt and his mentor. Dar'zha may not be able to speak, but through Ma'rhaz translating his hand signals, he manages to live almost as full a life as he used to before the loss of his voice. Delvin can sneak so silently it's impossible to hear him coming, and he has all of his cousin's talent. And recently, we have gained two recruits who both show great promise. One is Vex, an untidy, snappish and feisty teenage Imperial, who Mercer picked off the streets some months ago in much the same way that both he and I were recruited once before, long ago. She and Tonilia have become firm friends, being fairly close in age. She's bad-tempered much of the time, but on a few occasions, I've seen Mercer, who's taken on her training, praise her work (Nocturnal's mercy, but does that girl know how to use a lockpick!) and when he does, I see her eyes light up and her face break into a smile for a fraction of a second before she quickly covers up her emotions again. She has the ability to go far, very far indeed._

_And the other recruit? I could barely believe it when I saw him in Riften. And I was even more startled when he told me that he wanted to join the Guild. But Thjon Winter-Blade, son of Henja, has proven to be a far greater thief than I would ever have realised. Admittedly, he has a tendency to be clumsy from time to time, and his stealth skills need a little polishing. But under Delvin's guidance, the skills he has are beginning to shine. He is remarkably sensitive when it comes to lockpicking – he isn't as skilled as Mercer or Vex, but he is steadily learning, and he's a marvel when it comes to knowing when he's got the pick in the right place. He'd make quite a good intimidator, too, if not for the fact that he's got a heart as soft as tundra cotton. Still, I know that he has a brilliant future, and I am more grateful than I can ever say to Henja for allowing him to follow his heart here._

_Gods above! My wrist is sore from writing so much. But then, I had much to say. Friends have come and gone, loyalties have been tested, and danger has threatened many times since I last had the chance to recount the tale of my life. And now the rest of this book lies open before me, and who can say what words I shall fill the following pages with?_

_It's the strangest thing… recently, I've been feeling that something is coming. That just beyond the horizon, where I can't see it, something is on its way. Perhaps I'm being foolish, or maybe the Divines are trying to tell me something, or maybe Nocturnal herself is sending me a message. But I have a feeling that soon, very soon, my life is going to change. Maybe forever._

_But for better or for worse, I am ready to face it._

* * *

'And I'm telling you, something needs to be done about it!'

I let out a long sigh, trying my utmost not to let my frustration show. 'Listen, I know that the Guild is allied with the Black-Briar meadery, but we're not in charge of them. If they've cut your pay, there's very little we can do about it. I'll have a word with the Black-Briars, but I can't promise anything.'

The guard glared at me, and I let out an exasperated sigh. 'I'm trying my best to get this sorted out. I can't tell you why there's been a cut in your pay. All I know is that there's been one. I will do my level best to persuade the Black-Briars to raise it again, but if they refuse, there's little I can do about it.'

He continued to glower for a few moments, then relented. 'All right, I can see that's as good as we're going to get.' He scuffed his foot on the ground, then mumbled an ungracious, 'Thank you, I suppose.'

'Don't mention it,' I replied shortly, and quickly spun around to continue my rounds of the city. As Guildmaster, one of my many duties was to keep the entire city running smoothly. That meant checking in to the Black-Briar meadery most mornings, in order to confirm that business was successful as usual for both organisations, doing a round of the merchants and making sure they were all satisfied, perhaps listening in on conversations between citizens to try and gauge the level of content among the civilian population, and talking to the captain of the guards to make sure his men were happy with the way things were being run. I wasn't going to allow another situation like what had happened to Sereniel or Dar'zha to take place while I ran the Guild – and with it, Riften.

Today, for some reason that seemed inexplicable thus far, the Black-Briars had subtracted a considerable sum from the amount they paid the guards. I knew that it was beneficial to have the city's law enforcement squad under the thumb of our most trusted business partners, but from time to time, Riften's wealthiest family made me supremely irritated. If they were going to lower the amount of pay that the guards were getting, I thought irritably, as I pushed my way through the streets, they could at least ask me first. Irritated guards led to poorly enforced justice, and poorly enforced justice led to danger.

However, apart from that single problem, the city seemed quiet and content – at least, as quiet and content as it was possible for a place like the City of Thieves to be. Smiling to myself, and quiet humming _Ragnar the Red, _I made my way to the city gates. I knew Azhanri's timetable well enough to know that her caravan would have arrived outside the city a few hours ago, and I had several things to deliver to them. What was more, they had visited Markarth recently, which meant I could ask them if they had learned anything about the state of the Guild's influence there. It was of vital importance to keep every Hold in Skyrim fearing and respecting the Thieves Guild, and recently I had begun to worry that we were beginning to lose some of our reputation in the Reach, seeing as few jobs had been carried out there over the past few months. That was one of the things I loved about having an alliance with the Khajiit traders – they travelled all of Skyrim, and their keen ears picked up everything I could possibly need to know.

As I had suspected, the Beastfolk merchants were beginning to pitch their tents as I approached. Tsumata was the first to see me, and she gave me a cheery wave. 'Khajiit wishes you well, Jo'dar!'

'And this one smiles upon our meeting, Tsumata,' I called back in Ta'agra. 'Where is Azhanri?'

'She's over there,' the young Khajiit replied, pointing. 'Did you bring those amethysts?'

I nodded. 'Don't worry. This one has them.'

'What a relief.' Tsumata's tail flicked. 'Our client would have been most displeased if we arrived in Windhelm without them.'

She hurried off to deal with a few customers, leaving me to seek out her grandmother. Azhanri was unloading packages from the wagon, and she glanced up with a smile as I neared her. 'Twin moons shine upon you, friend.'

'And also on you,' I replied, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a small bag. 'I have your amethysts. Finest quality and completely flawless, just like you wanted.'

The Khajiit woman took them with a smile. 'This one thanks you from the bottom of her heart. Khajiit thinks it would be a little unwise to ask exactly how you managed to obtain them, so she will not.'

'It's a long story,' I chuckled. 'You see, Mercer and Vex were training in Dawnstar, and Vex was almost caught by a priest of Mara who – '

Azhanri chuckled. 'Spare this one the tale, Jo'dar. You shall only make her long for the days when she was young and strong enough to accomplish such exploits herself.'

I smiled, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow within me. Azhanri's fur was flecked with white and silver now, and little as I liked to admit it, my friend was growing old. Skyrim was a harsh land, and its wilderness was perilous. The moment you became less able to fight, you were at risk. What with the precarious life that the caravans led, there was no telling how much longer Azhanri would last. Still, there was no point dwelling on it. For now, the Khajiit was still healthy and just as shrewd and sharp as ever, and I was certain that she had a fair few seasons remaining before she went to join her ancestors.

'So, how goes business in the Guild?' Azhanri asked, her whiskers twitching.

I raised and lowered one shoulder. 'No better and no worse than usual. Our newest recruits – Thjon and Vex – both show much promise, though they have a few flaws. The guards are grumbling about their pay, but that is nothing new. The gold is flowing nicely. There's little to report, but life is good.'

'And Azhanri is pleased to hear it.'

I pushed a few strands of wayward hair out of my eyes. 'So, did you manage to find out anything while you were in the Reach? What's the situation?'

'We managed to pick up a little information,' Azhanri answered quickly. 'Your Guild is as feared as always, but your lack of action in recent months has been noticed.'

I dipped my head to her. 'Thank you for helping.'

'Always a pleasure, my young friend.'

I stayed in the camp for a few minutes in order to talk to all of the Khajiit and gather news from the rest of Skyrim, before beginning to walk back towards the city. I paused near the entrance, watching the hustle and bustle of everyday life outside my home. A group of Imperial soldiers was marching away from the gate, and the seemingly never-ending stream of merchants was as strong as ever. I felt my smile widening. I loved living in Riften. The place was so alive. All those dreams I had harboured as a child – dreams of excitement and adventure and discovery – they had come true the moment I first set foot on those wooden streets. Perhaps they had not been realised in quite the way I had anticipated, but all the same, I had been given my life back when I walked through the gates of Riften.

As I watched, I noticed one of the guards suddenly stop leaning against the wall and take a step forwards, calling out something I didn't catch. At first, I didn't understand; then I noticed one of the people approaching the gate stop and turn to him. A Dark Elf woman, I noticed, and for a few moments, I thought it was Dralsi. But no, she was younger, though she looked somewhat similar. And she wasn't wearing Guild armour.

I was about to walk on by when I noticed something. The elf was carrying a bow strapped to her back – a jet black weapon, engraved with swirling patterns of silvery grey. And that was when my eyes stretched wide, for I knew that bow well. I would have recognised it anywhere. Many times I had heard its string twang and watched as its wielder sent her arrows into the hearts of her foes. That bow was Dralsi's.

Intrigued, I snuck closer, in order to hear the conversation now taking place between the stranger and the guard. How in the name of Nocturnal had she come by Dralsi's bow? I sincerely doubted that it could be an identical copy – Dralsi had always insisted that her weapon was one of a kind.

'Tax?' I heard the Dunmer saying disbelievingly as I drew near. 'Why in Azura's name would I have to pay a tax to go into the city?'

'For the privilege of carrying out your trading,' the guard growled. 'Why else?'

I let out a small groan. Not again. Whenever the guards had a pay cut, they often devised some new method of robbing unsuspecting travellers in order to make up for it. Clearly, this was their latest tactic. I had half to step forwards and intervene, but something held me back. I was interested to see how the Dark Elf dealt with this.

As I watched, the woman stared coolly at the guard, not showing a trace of fear or submission. 'I don't suppose you've realised, but this is the most obvious hoax that's ever existed in the history of Nirn,' she told him blandly.

I chuckled. 'Good girl,' I murmured under my breath.

'Is that so?' The guard ran his hand over his sword hilt. 'Well, I've got my orders, greyskin, and I'm keeping to them. One hundred septims. Now.'

This time I actually did step forwards, gritting my teeth. Racism was one of the few things I simply could not abide. But again, I hesitated, eager to see the Elf's reaction.

To my surprise, she drew her dagger. 'Do you see this?' she asked, lifting it a little, and I could detect a trace of amusement in her voice. I frowned suddenly. Even her voice sounded familiar. The words were clear, but softly spoken. They reminded me of the sound that wind makes as it rushes through the branches of a tree.

The guard nodded, and the Elf continued to hold up the blade in a meaningful way. 'What do you think I use it for?' she asked.

There was a mix of bafflement and apprehension in the guard's tone now. 'Stabbing things, I guess.'

Although I couldn't see the Dark Elf's face, I had a feeling that she was grinning. 'Almost,' she told him. 'You're half right. I use it for slicing open my kills after I go hunting so I can rip out their guts.'

She spun the weapon around in her hand, and the guard stared at her. After a brief pause, she said something I didn't quite pick up – I think it had something to do with a demonstration. And a moment later, I was proved correct, as she proceeded to do something that made my mouth drop open in amazement.

From her pocket, she produced an ordinary green apple. She turned it over in her hand, then tossed it upwards. With movements almost too fast for me to make out, she lashed out at it as it flew through the air, slicing it cleanly in two. That would have been impressive enough, but as they fell, she struck out again, cutting the halves into quarters. And that was not the end; a moment before they touched the ground, she crouched and slashed a third time. Eight pieces of apple landed on the ground, and the Dunmer woman straightened up, wiping the blade of her knife on her tunic.

As the guard gazed dumbly at her, she casually threw the dagger between her hands, flung it up into the air, and caught it neatly once more, without a single hesitation. 'But there'd be other things to slice,' she said warningly, 'If you get my meaning, if I thought certain people were trying to cheat me out of my money.'

I quickly crammed my hands over my mouth to stifle a burst of laughter. _You genius! _I thought in delight.

The man squirmed uneasily. 'Okay. You… you can put that thing away.' He swallowed visibly. 'I'm letting you in.'

I watched, still laughing, as the Elf replaced her dagger in its sheath. 'Thank you. And what race am I?'

'Dunmer.' The word came out as a grunt.

'That's right. Call me greyskin again, and you'll regret it.'

She marched through the gates, shooting a few more words after him that I couldn't hear but were clearly insults. Beaming, I kept my eyes on her until the gates swung shut after her, blocking her from view.

There was no longer any doubt or confusion in my mind. I knew now who this stranger was. Only one person could carry that bow, and act with such familiar determination and skill. Though I had never met this Dark Elf, I had heard her name many a time, and I had always known that sooner or later, she would come to Riften. And it looked like she had all the talent and spirit of her mother.

'My, my, Dralsi Indoril,' I chuckled, rubbing my hands together. 'You trained your daughter well.'

* * *

***Cymbal crash* And so Karliah enters the story at last! :D**

**I must stress that Ornith is NOT mine, and was used with the kind permission of ShoutFinder. Shout, I more or less promised you that I would include him, so there you are!**

**As said previously, this chapter was going to involve Gallus's meeting with Karliah, but I'm saving that for next chapter. Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon with Chapter Twenty Three - 'Indigo.' **


	24. Indigo

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Karliah Indoril.

I sometimes think I could simply do nothing but repeat that name for the rest of my days. It would give me happiness enough to make me last. It would sustain me far more than food or water. For it is such a beautiful name, a name that almost tastes sweet on my tongue, and its owner means so much to me. In my eyes, she means more than the whole world.

Of course, back then, I could not have known. How could I possibly have known? The Elf was a stranger. To be sure, I had heard her name many a time, and I had often wondered what she might be like, but never had I met her. I had never spoken to her, nor even set eyes upon her. Dralsi had always kept her apart, kept her hidden, kept her safe. She had already lost her husband; she was not going to lose her daughter as well. Dralsi had not dared to risk the life of her only child by allowing the rest of the world to know about her. The Dunmer woman had made enemies in her time, there was no denying it. There were many who would gladly have seen her dead. And had it become widely known that she had a daughter, there was a grim possibility that Karliah might be in danger. And so she had always kept her daughter hidden away from the rest of the world.

No, I had no way of knowing. Not when neither of us had ever seen the other before in their life. I very much doubted that Karliah had ever heard my name before. Neither of us could ever have imagined what the Divines had in store for us. Neither of us could have known what her arrival in the Guild would mean for us. Neither of us could have guessed that within a few years, we would mean more to each other than our Guild, than our friends, more even than life itself…

And we could not have known what would happen because of it.

Do I regret it? No. No, I harbour no doubts at all that it was right for us to be together. I never have and I never will. I regret what became of it, but that is something completely different. Even if it did not last, for however short a time, she and I had each other, and we shared our own little world. Even if it caused our Guild to shatter into pieces, I would not have exchanged her love for anything. Even if it ended in pain and death and suffering, I have never known such joy as the happiness I knew when I looked into those incredible eyes and held her close to me, and lost myself in the knowledge that she was mine and I was hers forever and forever…

And even though it was because of what we shared that I became blinded to the truth, it was not our fault. It was not the fault of any of us mortals. Love is blind, and Mara works in mysterious ways... ways which the Daedra cannot understand. Nocturnal could not understand the meaning of love, and that was why it all happened. I cannot deny the evil of what Mercer did, nor can I deny that it was through my own negligence that it was allowed to happen. But if only Nocturnal had been able to understand the way that the hearts of mortals work, she might have been able to forgive us. All three of us needed to be forgiven, and she simply could not forgive.

It took another to open her eyes. A wiser and greater Nightingale than I.

Ah, listen to me. What a fool I am, droning on and on about my miseries and regrets. That is not important now. What matters is the story, my tale.

And I shall continue with it.

Strange how vividly I remember all those hazy memories from my past now, when I think about them. But I know that I will not have any trouble remembering the events that took place after that day. The years that followed were, without a doubt, some of the best of my life. They were all too quickly ruined. But while they lasted, they were wonderful, and I cannot forget them.

Because on that day all those many long years ago, when I caught sight of a familiar-looking stranger standing outside the gates of Riften, I entered a new chapter of my life, one that would change the way I saw the world forever.

Karliah, I picture your face in your mind now. I imagine that I am saying these words to you, for that makes them so much more real and more meaningful. These are all the things I never told you about myself and my life, the things I should have told you while I lived. We have no secrets from each other now. I know there is a universe between us now, my little Nightingale, but that does not alter the fact that someday, soon, we will be together again. I am just around the corner from you, only a little out of sight. And I know that it lies with our Lady, Nocturnal, to decide when you may pass to Evergloam… but it cannot be long. I am sure of it. She knows how much you sacrificed in her name. She will take pity on us. She will return us to each other. I know she will.

I love you, Karliah Indoril. And soon, we will be together once again.

I promise.

And you of all people, my little Nightingale, know that if I can help it, I never, never break my promises.

* * *

The day after my first sighting of Dralsi's daughter dawned bright and dazzling, the clouds that usually hung dull and grey over the mountains shining a beautiful shade of silver. The air felt fresh and clean, and there were birds singing from every treetop as I made my way through the city, a smirk plastered over my face.

Upon waking, I had quickly made my plan for the day. I knew that there would be a new member among us before the sun rose again next morning, and I was determined to make sure everything went smoothly. The first thing I did was to dish out the jobs for the day, as I did most mornings. The Dark Brotherhood had requested a meeting with one of our members, so naturally I had sent Delvin, who knew more about the secretive group of assassins than the rest of us. I assigned Elruen to the task of a little light theft around the city, just to make sure everyone knew we were still there, then sent Mercer off to Markarth. The latter was a dual-purpose task – it would not only reinforce the Guild's reputation in the Reach, it would get Mercer out of the way for long enough for me to do what I planned to do. I felt a little guilty about it, but I was arranging an assessment mission that was not only a good test of a recruit's skill, ingenuity and daring, but was also perfectly safe, with very little chance of harm coming to them. I'd used the same tactic previously, for both Thjon and Vex, and they'd performed admirably. Still, Mercer had been none too pleased, which was why it was probably wiser to remove him from the equation until the mission was safely over.

After an hour or two spent recording the flow of money in and out of the Guild, I left to do my usual rounds of the city. I had spoken to the Black-Briars, as promised, the previous night, and apparently the cut in the guards' pay was due to a temporary drop in customers in Whiterun. However, the situation had been 'sorted out' according to the meadery, and very soon the guards would be receiving their usual amount of money once again. I was only too happy to report this to them, hoping with all my heart that it might make them a little less grouchy.

I stopped to check on the other merchants – the blacksmith finally swallowed his pride and put in a request for the steel I knew he'd been wanting to ask us for all week – before turning my attention to the matter that had been on my mind since yesterday morning. I knew that Dralsi had finally done as she had promised too all those years ago, and sent her daughter here to join the Guild. Clearly, though, my fellow Nightingale not given her child any actual instructions on how to find us. It didn't surprise me. It was just like Dralsi to test her intuition and intelligence in such a way.

I was fairly certain that I would not have to look too hard to find Karliah. I would know her when I saw her, and there weren't all that many places she could go. I knew what I would do if I were a newcomer to Riften, seeking to join the Guild. Firstly, I would find an inn, so I could rest and recover my strength after my journey. That meant she would have stayed the night in the Bee and Barb. And when morning came, I would venture out into the city and try and find a way to contact the Guild. But where would I go first?

_The marketplace, _I realised instantly. That was the busiest part of the town, and as such it was where most people seemed to become drawn to. Yes, I was almost certain that I should begin my search at the market. I hurried through the streets quickly, and soon found myself in the centre of the town. It was packed, as usual, and I soon decided that it would be easier to sit back and observe than actually waste my energy searching for the Elf. I knew that she would come sooner or later.

I purchased a sweetroll from the food stall and seated myself on a wall to eat it. I must admit that my utter adoration of sweetrolls is one of my few vices. And the sweetrolls from the Riften food stall are the best in Skyrim, without a doubt. The icing has just the right amount of sweetness, and the dough is neither too hard nor too soft. They truly do melt in your mouth, and to be honest, I think I could eat about twenty without stopping. So I was, understandably, rather distracted by the time Dralsi's daughter finally showed up. In fact, I would probably have missed the fact that she was there at all had Elruen not brought it rather sharply to my attention.

Not that Elruen knew that he was bringing her presence to my attention, of course. But he still did it.

As I wiped the crumbs from the front of my tunic, I heard a sudden yelling from the other side of the marketplace. I jumped to my feet on top of the wall in time to see Elruen dart away into the crowd and disappear from view. The weapons trader, her face scarlet, drove the point of a dagger she was selling into the wooden top of her counter, screeching furiously. I couldn't help but grin at her words – it was the usual rant about the disorganisation and dishonour of the city. Hear that outburst once, and you've heard it a thousand times.

Even as I watched, chuckling slightly, I suddenly saw a familiar figure suddenly push through the crowd and follow Elruen. My eyes widened at the sight of the black and silver bow, and within seconds I had jumped from the wall and was following. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, trying not to be noticed, I kept my attention on the two elves up ahead. As we turned a corner into a deserted alley, I saw the Wood Elf slip a coin purse – clearly snatched from the trader's counter – into his pocket, while the Dark Elf crept, unseen by her target, towards him.

I had a feeling I knew exactly what she was going to do, and my suspicions were proved correct only a few seconds later. As I watched from the shadows, Karliah suddenly stepped up to him and moved so quickly I would have missed her strike had I blinked. One moment, she was standing behind my Guild brother, and the next, her hand was in her pocket, and she was gently tugging the purse free. I winced, despite myself – her technique was almost flawless, and I could see much of her mother in her method – but she was balancing her weight a little too much on her right. She needed to adjust her position slightly, or she was at risk of pulling too hard on the purse. Luckily for her, though, Elruen's senses weren't acute enough to detect her presence, and he continued on his way.

I smiled to myself as Elruen carried on walking, utterly unaware that he had just been robbed. Were it not for her small failing in balance, the Dunmer's performance would have been perfect. Someone as new to the art of thievery as Elruen would have had no hope of detecting her – in fact, I doubted that even I could have managed it. But then, of course, Dralsi had never allowed me to perform in a way that was anything worse than what she knew I could achieve, and there was no reason to believe she would let her daughter underachieve either.

I saw Karliah drop away into a murky backalley, and I silently followed her, knowing that the darkness would make me near invisible if I was cautious enough. As I slipped around the corner, I wasn't surprised to hear her explode with laughter. I didn't blame her – thieving from a thief was quite an admirable achievement. If I had ever had any doubts that this woman belonged in the Guild, they vanished then.

'Nicely done,' I called quietly.

She jumped, clearly shocked, and I saw her eyes dart back and forth furiously, clearly trying to find where my voice was coming from. Her hand began to reach for her bow. Amused, I continued. 'Although your footwork needs a bit of work. You've got it half right, but you need to balance your weight in exactly the right way, otherwise you put yourself at risk of pulling on the target's purse. And that, as I'm sure you know, is fatal.'

I saw her face crease into a scowl. 'Look, I'm not in the habit of talking to the air,' she growled. 'If you're going to lecture me on my thieving skills, at least do it from where I can see you.'

I found myself laughing softly. Dralsi would almost certainly have said much the same thing. I liked this Dunmer already. I took a step forwards into the light, revealing myself to her. She leaped back a little, obviously alarmed that I had managed to get so close without her noticing. 'No need to ask who you are,' I commented. 'With a technique like that, and that feisty way of speaking, you can only be Dralsi's daughter. Karliah, I believe?'

The Dark elf stared for a moment, then, with understandable caution, she dipped her head. Delighted that my suspicions had been correct all along, I beamed at her and held out my hand – which, much to my pleasure, she shook. 'Gallus,' I said, feeling it was only fair for me to introduce myself, seeing as I already knew who she was. 'Gallus Desidenius. Guildmaster of the Riften Thieves Guild.'

I moved away from her a little so as to give her some space, and I saw her examining me closely. I, likewise, cast my eyes over her, trying to work out what sort of a sister I was gaining. Like Dralsi, she was lithe and slender, almost fragile looking, but somehowm as with her mother, there was an undeniable air of strength about her. She had Dralsi's blue-grey skin, Dralsi's brown hair, Dralsi's determined expression… but there was something different about her, something that at first I could not name. I did notice that her ears resembled Elrandor's much more than Dralsi's - because I am the strange kind of person who notices that sort of thing about people - but somehow I didn't think that was it. And then, with a burst of amazement, I realised.

Suddenly, I found myself recalling something Dralsi had once said to me regarding her daughter. _'Karliah is different,' _she had said. _'She was different from the moment she was born.'_Naturally I had asked her what she meant, and I had received no reply other than that mysterious smile that Dralsi always gave me as an answer to a question she did not want to respond to. But now, as I looked at Karliah Indoril, I finally understood.

The curse of Azura was something that every scholar worth his salt knew about. I knew well how the Daedric Prince had laid her enchantment upon the Chimer, turning their eyes as red as blood and their skin as dark as their hearts. No Dunmer was spared. But here, standing here in front of me, was one who had been spared. To be sure, her skin was the same grey as that of all her kind, but her eyes… her eyes were the most spellbinding ones I had ever seen in all my years. They were not red, nor crimson, nor scarlet, nor ruby, nor even rose. Nowhere even near. They were a colour I could not name, some strange mix between deep blue and rich, dark purple. They were the same shade as the sky just before night falls. They were the same colour as the waters of the Ebonmere.

But how could that be? Azura's curse had affected all the Dunmer – all of them. Could it be because of her ancestry? Dralsi and Elrandor were her parents, and Dralsi's parents were the fabled Barenziah and the enigmatic thief known as Drayven Indoril. Could that mean that Karliah was a direct descendant of Indoril Nerevar, the last true Chimer? Was that why she was so different? It might make sense, but why, then, did Dralsi not have these strange eyes as well?

And then it hit me. The red eyes of the Dark Elves had been bestowed upon them by Azura, the Lady of Dawn.

What if Karliah had been marked from the moment of her birth by Azura's sister, Nocturnal, the Lady of Twilight?

'How do you know my mother?' The young woman's voice jolted me out of my thoughts, and I forced myself to return to reality. Her question was only natural – I was a stranger to her, yet I knew her name, and I knew her mother's name.'

'It's a long story. Your mother and I go back. Way back.'

'In what way?' she asked, her eyes narrowing.

'I could never forget that style of pickpocketing,' I told her. 'I learned how to steal in the exact same way, from the exact same person.'

An incredulous expression stole across her face. 'You…' She paused and shook her head slightly. 'You were taught by my mother?'

'For a time, yes,' I affirmed. 'A brief time, but time enough for me to learn more from her than I had from anybody else.'

I saw the nervous tension slowly draining from her body. 'Then it's an honour to meet you,' she announced quietly.

'Likewise. My Guild's been waiting a long time for you to come and join us. Your mother is practically revered among us. The acts she performed in the Guild's service will not be forgotten for centuries to come. When she told us it was her intention to send you here when you came of age… I think I can speak for all of us when I say we were quite excited, to say the least.' I grinned, remembering that there were a few exceptions. 'Well, Mercer never lets himself get excited about anything, and I think Elandine would rather die than let anyone think she was looking forward to meeting anybody… but still.'

'Well, that's good.' Karliah crossed her arms, her frown lifting. 'Because I came here to find you.'

'I know,' I replied quickly. 'We've got eyes everywhere in Riften, as I'm sure you're aware.' After an awkward pause, I added hurriedly, 'I'm sorry my man on the gate gave you trouble, by the way, but I have to say that you performed admirably. I enjoyed the bit about having other things to slice. Very effective.'

For the first time, a small smile flickered over her face. 'Thank you.'

I decided I had better lead her to the Cistern. I needed to bring her into her new home, introduce her to her new brothers and sisters, and analyse her skills before I could send her off on her assessment mission, so it would be better for me to begin straight away. I motioned for her to follow me before turning and leading her away through the streets towards the cemetery. 'It's good to have a new recruit,' I called back to her as we went. 'I haven't been Guildmaster for long, you see. Our former leader, Draws-His-Blade, passed away recently.'

I felt my smile falter slightly, as it always did when I thought of Blade. Gods, I missed him. I had been steadily moving on over the years, but his loss still pained me, as if I were constantly carrying a dagger in my stomach, one which was driven deeper into me every time the Argonian's name flashed through my mind. 'He died as he lived,' I said heavily, 'fighting to defend what he held dear. His name will be honoured for as long as the Guild exists. He deserved a bit of peace after so many years of leadership, to tell the truth.' With a wry grin, I added, 'The downside was that I was flung into the job without much warning. Still getting used to it, to be honest. But having a capable new member in our ranks can only be an omen of good things.'

I did not doubt the truth of my words. This Dunmer was going to be a capable member – I could see that clearly already. With any luck, she would be just as good a thief as her mother, and I had a feeling that her skills in alchemy and archery would match Dralsi's too. But as I glanced back at the Elf as she followed me, a thought entered my mind that made me frown. Was it fair of me to expect her to live up to her mother's example? Surely it wasn't right for me to compare everything about her to Dralsi. I knew that I would hate anyone judging me based on what they knew of my father. As we entered the cemetery, I made a mental note to stop thinking of her as Dralsi's daughter. She was her own person. Her talents, choices and thoughts were her own.

_Yes, _I thought to myself. _Stop thinking of her as your mentor's child, Gallus, and think of her as a sister. A friend._

I gesture to the altar that hides the secret entrance to the Cistern. 'Your first mission,' I announced, 'should you choose to accept, is to find the way in.'

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded and stepped forwards, those amazing eyes carefully sweeping over every inch of the stone slab. I saw them focus upon the Guild symbol, and instantly she reached out and pushed the button it concealed. I smiled as the slab withdrew into the wall, revealing the trapdoor. 'Very nice,' I congratulated her, opening the cover and beginning to descend the ladder. 'Extremely impressive, in fact. This way.'

I quickly slipped down the ladder, but I was unsurprised when Karliah took some time to emerge. The ladder was in dire need of repairs, and though I was perfectly used to scrambling up and down a ramshackle construction that creaked as if it were ready to come crashing down every time I put my weight on it, it was perfectly understandable that someone using it for the first time was a little less sure of themselves.

At last, she dropped down beside me, and instantly her eyes widened. I couldn't help feeling somewhat proud of my home as she stared around at it in obvious awe. Clearly, whatever Dralsi had told her about our secret sanctuary beneath the city, she had not been expecting this. Few did. Who would imagine that thieves could dwell in such a breath-taking place?

As she gazed around in amazement, I took a step forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

'Welcome home,' I said quietly.

She kept staring at the scene in front of her, and I felt a flicker of amusement. 'You know, you might want to close your mouth now.'

Still no answer. I found myself looking at the Cistern with new eyes, trying to imagine what I would think of it were I a new recruit entering it for the first time. 'So what do you think?'

She smiled back at me, with a small shake of her head, looking a little overawed. 'It's… not exactly what I expected.'

I couldn't help but find this a little funny. 'How so?'

'Well… I guess I thought it would be smaller. Who built this place?'

'Nobody is entirely sure. It's been here for countless generations, as far back as anyone can remember, perhaps as long as Riften itself. Maybe longer. There's a constant argument about whether the city gave birth to the Guild, or whether the Guild gave birth to the city.'

'How many people live here?' Karliah was turning in a circle now, her eyes drinking in every detail of the chamber.

I chewed on my lip, thinking. Apart from myself, there was Mercer, Elandine, Ahsla, Tonilia, Dar'zha, Ma'rhaz, Delvin, Vex, Thjon, Elruen… and now Karliah as well. 'About twelve, at the last count. Not as many as I would like, to be completely honest. But a reasonable amount, I believe.' I shrugged.

'Thirteen, Desidenius,' came Elandine's voice. 'Since you've picked up another stray.'

I sighed as I turned and saw her standing nearby, her arms crossed and her back against the wall. 'I am not in the habit of choosing people from the streets and hoping that I get lucky, Elandine. I leave that to the likes of Mercer and Delvin.' Elandine hadn't stopped teasing me about bringing Thjon into the Guild – she had never regarded him as a proper thief, and she made sure I knew it. 'My protégés tend to be tried and tested before I allow them into the Cistern.' And because I knew exactly how to hit her hardest, I added, 'And where exactly would you be after the Thalmor banished you, had Draws-His-Blade not taken a chance on you?'

Elandine scowled fiercely. 'They didn't banish me,' she growled, indignant. 'I banished myself. I chucked a sweetroll in Elenwen's face and told her to go to Oblivion before I sent her there with my bare hands. Remember?'

I rolled my eyes. Elandine's story about her departure from the Thalmor was another thing that I had heard many, many times.

The High Elf raised her eyebrows, looking intensely at Karliah. 'So, you thought the Flagon would be a bit smaller, huh? You're not the only one. And guess who has to do the cleaning?'

I felt my irritation fade, because this was something of a running joke. 'You haven't had to do the cleaning since you were a new recruit, Elandine,' I told her, smiling, before deciding I should probably introduce the two elves to each other. 'This is Elandine, one of our senior members. Expert mage and enchanter, but she'll complain about anything that stays still long enough. Elandine, this is-'

The Altmer cut across me. 'Dralsi's daughter. I guessed that. She looks like her mother. Except the eyes.' Elandine pursed her lips. 'Well, as long as she doesn't interfere with my magic, beg me to enchant her weapon, or refuse to help clean the Flagon, she's welcome.'

She gave us a brief nod and marched away, probably to infuriate the others by using them as target practice for her spells. 'Typical,' I told Karliah. 'Never fear, you'll get used to her in time, with any luck. She may have a tongue as sharp as a swordblade but her talents are invaluable.'

With Karliah following, I started to cross the chamber across the walkways. 'If you'll just step this way, I'll see if Ahsla has a set of armour for you. She should be-'

I snapped off the end of the sentence, as my ears picked up the sound of quiet breathing behind me. A fraction of a second later, I felt a light touch on my pocket, and whirled around, lashing out with my hand. My fingers closed around a furry wrist. 'Did you want something, Dar'zha?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.

The young Khajiit beamed sweetly at me, withdrawing his hand from my pocket. The sound of hasty footfalls announced the arrival of Ma'rhaz, who appeared a second later, his eyes alight with distress. 'How many times, brother?! You don't try to rob the Guildmaster!'

I let go of Dar'zha, and the Khajiit turned to his twin, signalling with his hands. I only caught the last word – 'fun.'

'Ma'rhaz doesn't care if you were just having a bit of fun!' the dark-furred Khajiit wailed, throwing his hands up in the air. 'This is the third time.' He sighed deeply, and looked at me apologetically. 'This one must apologise for his brother, Guildmaster- he doesn't know what he's doing.'

I had to supress a snort of laughter, because I knew that Dar'zha knew what he was doing perfectly well. And I was unsurprised when Dar'zha's next signal-message was 'I most certainly do!'

Ma'rhaz shook his head violently. 'No, brother, you do not! There are no excuses. Your deeds shame us both. And our new friend here- what must she think of us?!' Ma'rhaz looked at Karliah with a sheepish expression. 'Ma'rhaz begs you to forgive his brother. He does not fully understand the consequences of his actions.'

I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing now, as Dar'zha pulled an outraged face. 'No harm done, Ma'rhaz,' I assured my old apprentice quickly. 'I'm all for my students getting a little practice.'

'Thank you, Guildmaster.' Ma'rhaz dipped his head to me before hurriedly dragging Dar'zha away. 'And don't look at me like that!' I heard him hiss. 'You are getting worse, brother- yesterday you put spriggan sap in Delvin's mead and iced his sweetroll with void salts! No, it was most certainly not funny!' There was a moment of silence. 'Well, yes- but it wasn't funny to Delvin!'

I swallowed down my laughter as best as I could. The incident had actually been quite hilarious, but Ma'rhaz was right – Delvin hadn't thought so at all. 'Now, the twins,' I told Karliah, as we continued on our way. 'With the twins, I don't think you'll have any problem getting to like them.'

'What's wrong with Dar'zha?' she asked, sounding intrigued.

The memories of that terrible day came rushing back to me. Yet again in my mind, I rounded that corner and saw Ma'rhaz crouching and clutching his bleeding head, saw Dar'zha lying on the ground, struggling furiously, saw the guard lifting his dagger, saw the blood spattering the pavement… I shuddered slightly. 'Dar'zha… a few years ago, he was out on a job. He was spotted trying to pickpocket a citizen and…' I swallowed the sizeable lump forming in my throat. 'Well. There was a small accident.'

'What sort of accident?'

I gritted my teeth grimly. 'One involving a particularly ruthless town guard,' I answered bluntly.

I turned to see the Dunmer's reaction. Her twilight-coloured eyes were wide with horror, and her skin had paled visibly. There was no need for her to say anything to express her thoughts – they were plain on her face. 'His brother arrived in time to rescue him, but he's never been the same since,' I said heavily. 'It's not his fault. Ma'rhaz is a little over-protective of him, but that's only to be expected. They've always been close, and I think Ma'rhaz blames himself for what happened. Whatever you do, don't ask any questions about it to either of them.'

'I wasn't planning on it,' she replied dryly.

We emerged into the Flagon, where, as usual, the Guild members were gathered around the bar, chatting, drinking, and – in Ahsla's case – trying to shift the half-conscious Delvin. I sighed inwardly. When the former assassin became drunk, he either fell into a deep rage or a deep sleep. This time it looked like he was leaning towards for latter. 'Having trouble, Ahsla?' I called, heading over to her.

The Redguard woman let out a small snort. 'No more than I have every time Del gets his hands on anything with alcohol content.'

I looked at her in confusion as I remembered the instructions I had given to Delvin that morning. 'I thought Delvin was supposed to be in Falkreath, at that meeting with the Dark Brotherhood,' I said to Ahsla, bewildered.

'He is. Mercer had to go instead.'

I shook my head hopelessly, and it was only the fact that I was reluctant to display any signs of insecurity in front of a newcomer, I would probably have buried my face in my hands. Delvin was a strong and valuable Guild member, but his tendency to get drunk was rather annoying. 'If he carries on like this, I'm going to have to ban him from the Flagon,' I sighed, bending down and fixing Delvin with a burning gaze. 'What do you have to say for yourself, Delvin?'

The Breton gazed groggily at me, his eyes unfocused. 'Butterflies,' he murmured rather distractedly, and slowly collapsed onto the table with a small, hazy moan.

With a long sigh, I clicked my fingers at the two closest Guild members. 'Vex, Thjon. Can you deal with Delvin?'

The Imperial and the Nord quickly leaped up and started to pull Delvin away, hopefully to find him some quiet corner where he could sober up. 'Ahsla,' I added, turning to the Redguard, 'I need to borrow you.'

'Sure.' Ahsla seemed relieved to have been let of the hook. 'What can I do for you?'

'Our latest recruit,' I said, waving a hand at Karliah, 'is going to be needing a set of armour. Could you perhaps do the honours?'

Ahsla glanced at the Dark Elf, and I saw recognition flash across her face. 'Why, can this really be-' She paused, frowning. 'It's Karliah, right? Dralsi's daughter.'

Karliah dipped her head, but I thought I saw a trace of annoyance in her eyes for a split second. But perhaps I was merely imagining it, because when I looked again, it was gone.

'And Elrandor's daughter, to,' Ahsla added. 'You should be proud. Your father was a good man.'

Blank shock came over the Dunmer's face. 'You knew my father?' she burst out, clearly astonished.

Ahsla gave her a shy smile. It was probably as strange for her as it was for me to see a woman who looked like a slightly smaller copy of one of our greatest and oldest friends standing in front of us.'Dralsi was my best friend when she was in the Guild. I knew her well enough to know that from the moment she met Elrandor, we'd lost her.'

I knew what Ahsla meant. Dralsi's first commitment had always been to her blood family over her adopted one.

'I only knew her for a short while, and I was still a child the day she left us behind, but I knew even that that she was a great loss to the Guild,' I said. 'But it was easy to understand why she went. Her love for her work was strong, but her love for Elrandor- and later for you, too- was far stronger.'

'It's good to have you here,' Ahsla told the Elf, nodding.

She smiled slightly, but there was an expression in her eyes I could not read. It seemed to be doubt. But doubt in what? In us? In the Guild? In her mother? In herself?

_Well, _I found myself thinking, _I'm not going to let that doubt remain. Of course she is nervous. But she can trust us. We are her family now._

* * *

_6__th__ of Evening Star_

_I have some wonderful news to report. If all goes well tonight, I might well have gained a sister._

_I have known from the day I first joined the Guild that Dralsi and Elrandor had a daughter. Her name is Karliah, but for years and years, that was all I ever knew about her. Dralsi told me once that she is 'different,' and had been different from the moment she was born, but I never understood how. And that was all the knowledge I had of her, until now._

_Dralsi often said that unless her plans went astray, she would send Karliah to join us when she was ready. And clearly she is ready now, for yesterday I saw her outside the gates of Riften. I knew it was her almost straight away – after all, she was carrying Dralsi's bow. And today I sought her out in the city. She has already shown her talent. This morning I sent Elruen out to carry out a few small thefts around the city, and after he stole from the weapons stall, Karliah stole the money straight back off him without him even noticing._

_I approached her and offered her a place in the Guild, and to my delight, she has accepted. Not that I imagined she wouldn't, naturally, for the reason she came to Riften in the first place was to join us. I like her enormously already – she has nerve, spirit and brains. She has inherited all of her mother's talent, and she looks quite like her too. Although, there is one thing that sets her apart. Like all Dunmer, Dralsi has red eyes. Elrandor had red eyes. Sranys had red eyes. Every Dark Elf I've ever met has had red eyes. Except for Karliah. I'm not quite certain how to describe her eyes. A strange shade of purple, dark and rich - the colour that the sky turns sometimes at twilight. I think the name for it is… indigo._

_And I cannot help but wonder if it is a sign. The red eyes of the Dunmer were bestowed upon them by Azura. Azura and Nocturnal are always said to be sisters. Maybe, just maybe, the fact that Karliah resists the curse of Azura means that it is the Lady of Dusk, not the lady of Dawn, who holds power over her?_

_Her mother is a Nightingale. Her grandfather was a Nightingale. I am almost certain that she will also, one day, be a Nightingale._

_But the day when she rises to take the third place in the trinity may not be for years. And for now, I will focus on the present. After kitting Karliah out in her Guild armour, I went through an analysis of her skills, and I must say, she's pretty damn good. She's skilled in archery, alchemy, dagger combat, and all the usual thieving skills. And she even managed to get all four questions right on the intelligence test, making her the first person ever to manage it. For her recruitment task, I'm a little ashamed to admit that I've used her to sort out a longstanding feud between Mercer and I. A few months ago, the Black-Briars gave Mercer and I a present each as a reward for our good work and support over the years. They'd recently kicked a pair of families out of their respective houses, and so we found ourselves the owners of some very nice properties within the city. As Guildmaster, I got first pick, and I could have chosen Riftweald Manor - a grand place, very comfortable, and the best sort of house you can get in Riften. Not only that, but it's got a secret passage leading straight from the basement into the Ratway Vaults. But I think I surprised everybody by going instead for Honeyside, a much smaller house on the outskirts of the city. It's only got about four rooms, and it's a little cramped, but I love the place. There's a homely feel about it that the Manor doesn't have. And to be honest… Riftweald Manor reminded me far too much of my father's home._

_Neither Mercer or I spends much time in our houses – we both prefer to be around our family in the Cistern. I occasionally sleep in Honeyside if it's a little rowdy in the Cistern and I'm getting a headache, but apart from that, I only use it to store my things. Recently, Mercer decided that it would be absolutely hilarious to send the twins – neither of whom had ever visited my home before – round to Honeyside on a burglary job. In retaliation, for Thjon and Vex's recruitment tasks, I sent them around to Riftweald Manor. I couldn't resist doing the same for Karliah. Mercer will not be happy, but to be honest, I think he deserves it after he split mead all over my antique copy of_ The Real Barenziah _last night._

_Karliah's been gone for some while now. I know that she managed to get in all right – I saw her climb a tree and break in through the window. She should return soon. But unfortunately, Mercer will also be arriving home before long, and then I'll have to face the music._

'Gallus bloody Desidenius!'

I glanced up from my journal with a slightly shamefaced grin. Mercer was striding across the Flagon towards me, his hands clenched into fists and his face red with anger. Calmly, I got to my feet and faced him. 'Can I help, Mercer?'

The Breton looked ready to explode. 'Help? Yeah, you can help by going and finding this new recruit of yours and telling him that if I catch him inside my house again, I'll rip out his guts with my bare hands!'

'That's what I like about you, Mercer,' I told him, grinning as I got to my feet. 'So understanding and patient. And actually, I think you'll find that the aforementioned recruit is a she. She's Dralsi's daughter.'

Mercer let out a sound that was a strange mix of a groan and a growl. 'I honestly couldn't care less. All I care about is that this is going too far. She's practically destroyed my table.'

I blinked. 'Your table?'

'You did that old story again, didn't you? 'This is the home of one of our rivals, get in there and send them a message.' Right? Well, she carved that message into one of my desks. And she even had the cheek to draw a little picture of a man beneath it and shove her dagger into it.'

I bit back a burst of laughter. 'You sent the twins round to trash Honeyside. Revenge is sweet, my friend.'

'I am _not _going to put up with this! This is the third time! You keep sending them round to rip up my furniture, and I'm…' He paused, struggling to come up with a good enough threat. 'I'm going to do something drastic!'

I sighed, but I was having trouble stopping myself from laughing. 'Calm yourself, please. You cannot deny that she performed exceptionally well.'

'I seems to have escaped your notice, Gallus, that she performed exceptionally well in my house!_' _Mercer snarled.

'Indeed she did,' I admitted. 'On the other hand, she managed to get in and get out without being seen- and that has to be admired.' Mercer's house was heavily guarded by mercenaries.

'Yeah, well, next time, send the new bloods to your house! Have them slice up your own tables!'

'It was only a table, and I'm quite happy to cover any costs,' I told him firmly. 'However, we did witness her skills in lockpicking, sneaking and tree-climbing, not to mention that fact that she has a considerable amount of ingenuity. All in all, we've gained a fine recruit. I believe she takes after her mother. Though I think she has her father's ears.'

Mercer was practically swelling with rage. '_Damn _her ingenuity and whether or not she's got her father's ears!' He took a step forwards. 'Do you remember what happened when you sent Vex on her recruitment mission? She stole all my mead!'

I smirked – I remembered it very well. 'And a good thing, too. You drink too much, Mercer.'

For a few moments, he spluttered, unable to come up with a response. Then he seemed to decide that he wanted to have the final word, and continued his attack. 'I've had enough of putting up with my possessions being ruined because you wanted to teach the recruits the important of undermining an enemy's allies in order to ensure his defeat, or whatever it is you keep saying! And who are you to preach to me about my drinking? I'm not as bad as Delvin!'

I snorted. 'Nobody is as bad as Delvin.'

'And what about Thjon?' Mercer demanded, not to be outdone. 'When he did his trial, I seem to remember that he smashed a pair of practically priceless-'

'I know, and I paid for repairs,' I reminded him. 'I also compensated you for everything that Vex stole during her recruitment task. And allow me to remind you that the day that Thjon goes through a mission without breaking something will be the day that you go through a day without a single bottle of mead.'

Mercer looked outraged. 'I'll have you know that only last week-'

'I didn't realise that stabbing a little stick figure would cause so much controversy,' Karliah's voice called from the other side of the Flagon.

I turned to see her standing nearby, a slight grin on her face and several scorch marks on her armour. I couldn't help but feel relieved that she had made it – Mercer's house was not an easy place to escape from unharmed.

I glanced at Mercer. 'See, I told you she was good.'

Karliah gave me a withering look. 'You set me up,' she accused.

Realising that I was definitely at fault here. 'Guilty, I'm afraid. It's a routine I go through with most recruits, in order to test their initiative. I wouldn't actually have sent you into the house of one of our real enemies. I'm not keen on having recruits murdered.'

Her smile widened a little, and she held out her arms. 'Well, here I am,' she said. 'I'm alive. Is that enough initiative?'

I heard a screech of laughter from Dar'zha, which was quickly choked back as Ma'haz whacked him round the head.

'It certainly seems that you did an extremely good job,' I complimented the Dunmer, ignoring the twins.

Mercer continued to glare at us both.

'Lighten up.' I nudged him gently and decided to introduce the pair to each other. 'Karliah, this is Mercer Frey, my second in command.' I glanced at the Breton, unable to resist adding, 'You may find it hard to believe, but he can actually be quite fun on a good day.'

Mercer let out a scornful bark.

'Nice to meet you?' Karliah's words were definitely more of a question than a statement.

Mercer continued to glower at her.

'Can I ask you something? What is with all the booby-traps?' The Dark Elf tipped her head on one side slightly. 'How do you avoid getting killed every time you want to get down that passage?'

'That is a _secret _escape route!' Mercer burst out furiously.

'Then don't put the Escape Shadowmark next to the entrance,' Karliah retorted, undaunted. 'Because it could be considered to be a bit of a giveaway.'

I decided that I had infuriated him for long enough. It was time to give him a break. 'Mercer, please.' I said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'You cannot deny the fact that she managed to break into your house and escape down perhaps the most dangerous secret tunnel in Skyrim without a single person laying eyes on her once. And your home isn't exactly lightly guarded. That's pretty impressive.'

The Breton hesitated, and I knew him well enough to be fairly certain that he wanted to agree, but his pride would not let him.

I turned my back on him and looked at the rest of the Guild. 'I'd like a show of hands,' I announced. 'After her performance tonight, which of those among you are in favour of allowing Karliah to join our number?'

I heard the Elf breathe in sharply, and my heart went out to her. She must be terrified of rejection. But I knew she would never be turned away.

Ahsla lifted her hand almost instantly, quickly followed by Dar'zha and Ma'rhaz. I raised my own, and a second later Elandine and Delvin did the same. Then Thjon. Then Elruen. Then Vex. I looked anxiously at Mercer, who, after a heavy sigh, relented and copied his fellows.

'Fine,' he growled. 'But if I find one more new blood sent around Riftweald Manor…' He left the threat hanging in the air.

I smiled. I knew that he didn't mean it. And his anger wouldn't last long. I felt a burst of joy inside me – the Guild had gained a sister, and I had gained a friend.

I turned to the newest member of my family, smiling, and gazed into those incredible indigo eyes.

'Welcome to the Guild, Karliah.'

* * *

**Ugh, I had so much trouble writing this. I mean, even if Gallus does have a very different perspective to Karliah, I still have this horrible feeling that this chapter is basically just **_**Indigo Nightingale **_**again, from a different POV. I hope you guys didn't find that.**

**Well, thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.**


	25. Danger

**Since the Forsworn appear in this chapter, yes, this is possible, because the Markarth incident took place in 4E 176, and Karliah returns to the Guild (in my mind) a year or two after 4E 201. So in other words, the Markarth incident has recently happened, meaning that the Forsworn have been around for a while.**

**Silverleaf Valley is invented by me, so you won't be finding it anywhere in the game.**

**OK, on with the chapter! Please enjoy. **

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

_22__nd __of Morning Star_

_It snowed again today, so deeply and heavily that it is now nearly impossible to walk. The snow comes halfway up your thighs, so it's more wading than walking now. It looks beautiful outside – the mountains look like they are made of ice and you'd think that someone had sprinkled moon sugar all over the forest. On the downside, it's colder than a Draugr's heart out there. I've postponed my morning rounds of the city. In fact, with the weather like this, I might well postpone it permanently. _

_The rest of the Guild seems to agree with me, because no sooner had I woken up than practically every member of the family was crowding around me, begging me not to send them out on any missions today. Since I wouldn't like to be outside in this weather, and I'm a firm believer in the credo of 'do as you would be done by,' I relented. So now everyone's crowding around the Flagon, feasting, drinking mead and singing, in true Thieves Guild style._

_It's good that Karliah has settled in so quickly. Right now, she's teaching Thjon and Tonilia the song that she sang for us the day she came to the Guild. It's a beautiful tune, sweet and haunting. I heard Dralsi humming it from time to time, but I never knew the words until Karliah sang them. She's a wonderful new addition to the family. I know I've written that a million and one times, but it's true. She gets on well with everyone, thought she and Elruen have had a few heated arguments about which of them is the better archer, and Delvin is constantly berating her for not liking mead. It's a matter of taste, Mallory, please just accept it…_

_The way things are going, it looks like I'm officially her mentor now. Nobody really thought about it, it's just how things have worked out. And I've no problem with that at all. She's a joy to teach – patient, intelligent, focused and determined. Not that I actually have all that much to teach her. Dralsi did an amazing job with her. She can move soundlessly, she can put an arrow in the bull's eye of a target at fifty paces, she can pick a pocket with such speed that sometimes even I don't see her doing it, even when I'm watching her. She needs to work a little on her lockpicking, and her other combat skills are nowhere near as good as her archery, but apart from that, she's a near-perfect thief. And her arrival has made Elandine very happy. Yesterday, Ahsla was almost grabbed by a guard as she escaped from the house she was robbing. She managed to make it out without being arrested, but she received a very nasty cut on her arm. She stumbled into the Cistern and collapsed. For a moment, I'm ashamed to admit, I panicked. Elandine was in Whiterun, carrying out some light theft in Dragonsreach, and without her there I wasn't certain how to tend to the wound. But even though she was barely conscious, Ahsla had strength enough to tell me to fetch Karliah, which I did. And within a few minutes I was shown that it was a good thing I had done. That Elf is a master when it comes to alchemy. She had the wound cleaned and practically healed so quickly it was hard to believe it. When Elandine returned, she told Karliah that she wouldn't have done a thing differently had she been there. It's good to have a resident alchemist again._

_I'm not sure how long this snow is going to go on for, but one thing is for certain. I'm not going to allow them to become lazy. Mercer and I have had a plan in the making for some weeks now – in fact, we would have carried it out today, if not for the weather. One thing I've discovered in the time I've been Guildmaster is that one of the best ways to test the skills of my agents is to take them into a completely unfamiliar environment, give them an unusual task and see how they do. Usually, I get them to do it in teams, to see how well they work together. Once the weather improves a little, I'm taking a select few from the Guild to the Reach. Why? Well, partly because that's one of the few places in Skyrim that isn't knee-deep in snow (just ankle deep.) But also because the landscape there is a maze, and there's a number of deserted Forsworn camps in the area that make it perfect for what I've got in mind. _

_I still need to work out a few points, but I think everything should go to plan. I need to discuss it with Mercer, but I'm almost certain he'll agree. After all, we've already prepared the mission. The only reason he might disagree is because he loves training missions, and he's promised to do that job in Solitude the moment the snow stops, which means he'll probably miss out.. Ah, well. As long as nothing happens to his furniture, he should be happy._

* * *

'Keep up, Del!'

Elandine's impatient call made the corners of my mouth twitch in a grin. Twisting around in my saddle, I called back to the snappish High Elf. 'Give him a chance, El. He's never ridden before.'

'You bet I 'aven't,' the Breton growled, clinging desperately to the reins of his horse. 'Why in Oblivion would I want to lump myself on the back of some clodhopping animal that is almost certainly plotting to murder me?'

Elruen laughed. 'I think that's a bit extreme.'

'Thunder isn't a bad-tempered horse at all, Delvin,' I called back. 'In fact, he's one of the most docile creatures the Guild owns. You don't need to worry about him playing up. Just keep a steady hand on the reins, and don't get impatient with him.'

'Have you seen the damn thing's face?' Delvin yelped. 'I just know that he's tryin' to work out the best way to bump me off. Fifty Septims says that the first chance he gets, he'll dump me in a river and run off without me.'

'I wouldn't be overly surprised if he did,' Karliah told him dryly. 'You've got the reins miles too short. Give him some more space to move his neck, sit up straight, and put your weight down through your heels. That way you'll have no problems.'

Delvin glared at her. 'Easy for you to say! You've been riding since you were, I don't know, seven?'

'Six,' the Dunmer corrected him.

'Exactly!' Delvin yelled furiously. 'Whereas I've never gone anywhere near one of these brutes in my whole life. So cut me some slack, will ya?'

Elandine snorted. 'And how likely to happen do you think that is in the Thieves Guild?'

Thunder snorted and bent his neck down to try and reach a clump of Nirnroot growing by the side of the road. The Breton yanked at the reins so sharply that the stormy grey stallion jerked instantly to a halt.

I sighed and turned Ebony around to face the rest of the group. 'At this rate, we'll never even get to the Reach, let alone have enough time for the training exercise when we get there.'

'Well, don't blame me,' Delvin retorted, grimacing. 'I don't have the first clue about how to control this bloody animal.'

Elruen sighed. 'Just give him a little kick, Del. It's not exactly difficult.'

'Kick him, eh?' The Breton grunted. 'I reckon I can do that.'

Karliah looked worried. 'Be careful. Don't do it too – '

Delvin whacked his heels into the horse's sides with such force that Thunder reared up with a shrill whinny of alarm, his front hooves flailing in the air. It was a miracle that Delvin stayed in the saddle – if he hadn't been gripping onto the reins as hard as he had been, he would most likely have ended up face-down in the mud. In actual fact, it would have been better for him if he had, for the moment Thunder's hooves touched the ground again he broke into a full-out gallop.

'Sweet Talos,' Thjon groaned, slapping a hand to his face.

Elruen shook his head despairingly. 'And there, my friends, we have an stunning example of the worst horsemanship known to mortals.'

I whirled Ebony around. 'We'd better go after him before he runs off the edge of a cliff,' I said grimly, and urged my steed into a canter.

The five of us sped off in pursuit of Delvin and Thunder, the hooves of our horses sending up billowing white clouds of snow. The sun was bright and warm today, but some of the snowfall from the previous day still lay in a thick white blanket on the ground. It had been far worse in the Rift, and rumour had it that the citizens of Eastmarch and Winterhold were so deep in snow it was impossible for most of them to leave their houses, but here it was fairly light, and the warmth of the morning was melting it quickly. Better still, most of the clouds that had threatened the sky in the early hours of the day had been blown away by a strong wind from the east, and it looked like we could expect fair weather for the rest of the day. However, the good weather would be absolutely no use at all if we couldn't catch Delvin.

We pounded along the road at full speed, until finally I caught sight of a greyish shape ahead of us. 'There they are,' I called, ducking under a tree branch that overhung the path.

'Leave it to me,' Elruen commanded firmly, spurring on his chestnut mare and quickly overtaking the rest of us.

Thjon, to my right, frowned. 'Why him?'

I chuckled. 'He's a Wood Elf, remember?'

The young Nord looked puzzled. 'Why does that make a difference?'

'Wait and see,' I told him.

Elruen cantered on, finally drawing level with the madly rushing Thunder. Delvin had slumped down in the saddle and was clinging to the stallion's neck, swearing loudly and begging the Divines to make it stop. The Bosmer galloped alongside him for a few moments, then the air around him seemed to warp. Streaks of pale golden light shot out from around him, and both his own horse and Delvin's were engulfed in a yellowish glow. Thunder slowed to a trot, and then to a walk, and Elruen reached out and grasped hold of his bridle. 'Got him,' he shouted triumphantly.

'Good work, Elruen.' I led the others over to him. 'Extremely impressive use of your racial ability.'

The Woof Elf grinned at my praise. 'It wasn't all that hard. Horses are a lot easier to control than sabre cats or mammoths.'

'Don't tell me you've actually tried to control a mammoth,' Elandine said, staring disbelievingly at him.

Elruen shrugged. 'I was being chased by a giant. It saved my neck.'

Delvin let out a low moan. 'Who was it said that I didn't need to worry about this damned animal playin' up?'

Four heads turned towards me.

'Guilty,' I admitted. 'But at the time, I believed it was true.'

The Breton lifted his head and glowered at me. 'From now on, I am not gonna believe a single word that comes outta your mouth.'

'I'll swap horses with you if you like,' Karliah offered.

Delvin scowled. 'Sure, why don't you just rub it in an' prove how good at riding you are?'

The Dark Elf shrugged. 'I'm trying to help.'

'Well, you ain't helpin'.'

Thjon shuffled impatiently. 'Are we going or not?'

'We're going,' I assured him. 'Come on. We've still got at least twenty minutes of riding before we get there, and we might as well get it over and done with.'

'Fine.' Delvin patted the subdued Thunder and nodded to me to take the lead. 'But don't blame me if I end up drinkin' with my ancestors by the end of the day. This animal has it in for me, and that's that.'

We journeyed on, and the lush green forests of Falkreath rapidly gave way to the twisted trees, craggy hills and jagged canyons of the Reach. Mercer and I had discovered our destination a few weeks previously, and it was the perfect location for a training mission of this variety. I was the only one who knew the way, so the others dropped back to allow me to lead the way. We soon found ourselves riding through a narrow gap between two cliffs, and emerging into a valley. There was little snow here, and the grass was bright emerald green. A few gnarled and bent juniper bushes hunched around the scattered boulders, and a stream trickled steadily over the rocks, the sunlight making its clear water shine like silver.

I pulled Ebony to a halt and turned to face the others. 'All right, we're here,' I announced. 'Let me explain the mission.'

The others drew back their mounts and listened with curious expressions. 'This mission is designed to test your teamwork skills, among other things,' I told them. 'Karliah and Thjon, you're with me. Elandine, I'm leaving you in charge of Delvin and Elruen.'

They all nodded, and I continued. 'This is Silverleaf Valley,' I said, gesturing to the surroundings. 'It's a lot larger than it looks. Mercer and I explored this place recently, and we've discovered two empty Forsworn camps in the area. These will act as our bases during the mission. Up there on that cliff, behind those trees, is Silverleaf Redoubt. You should be able to see it from here.'

Five heads turned and squinted upwards. Looking carefully, it was just possible to make out a row of wooden stakes halfway up the cliff, and behind them, several half-collapsed tents and wooden huts. 'And further along the valley, behind that hill, is a second camp, Flint Rock Redoubt. Elandine, your team will take Silverleaf Redoubt, and my team's base will be Flint Rock. Got all that?'

'Got it,' Elandine affirmed, while the others dipped their heads.

'Good.' I swept my gaze over the row of eager faces. 'Now, Mercer and I have been planning to use this valley for some time, so we've already set out everything you'll need. It's going to be the usual capture-the-flag game, but in this case it'll be much more challenging, as you'll be in an unfamiliar location. And remember, no riding the horses, and no moving your own flag, only that of the other team. And no using your weapons. You can keep them with you as a precaution against bandits and sabre cats and wolves and so on, but you are not to use them against each other. And that applies for magic too, Elandine.'

The High Elf sighed ruefully. 'Damn, I thought you might overlook that.'

'It works a little like a children's game. If you get caught by the other team, you'll be imprisoned by your opponents in their base until one of your allies comes to get you. The winning team is the first to capture the opponent's flag and bring it back to their base. If there's no winner by nightfall, then it's a draw,' I continued, ignoring Elandine's comment. 'But remember, your own safety is more important than winning. If you're under attack from brigands or bears or anything, come and fetch the rest of us.'

Thjon swallowed anxiously. 'Do you think that's likely? You said these camps were deserted.'

'They are. Don't worry, Mercer and I scoured the entire valley and there's no sign of any Forsworn.' I looked at each of my Guild siblings carefully. 'If you do encounter any Forsworn, do _not _go anywhere near them. Those people are dangerous.'

Delvin spat onto the grass. 'You got that right. One encounter with them was enough. Those scum don't have the right to be called Bretons.'

We all nodded in agreement. Several weeks ago, Delvin and Thjon had found themselves ambushed by Reachmen on their way home from Markarth. They had barely escaped with their lives, and it was understandable that neither of them were keen on encountering them again.

'You'll need to give us some time to reach our base,' I told them, quickly changing the subject. 'Elandine, when your team's ready, launch a firebolt into the sky or something.'

The Altmer nodded. 'And how do we know when you're ready?'

It was Karliah who answered. 'I'll send up a burning arrow. The sky's clear. You won't be able to miss it.'

I nodded. 'Then let's get moving.'

We split up into our groups and headed for our bases, Elandine's team scaling the cliff, my group steadily crossing the valley and clambering over the hill to reach a second empty camp, this one nestled at the foot of another sheer cliff, and mostly hidden from view by boulders and stunted trees with pale bark and wispy leaves. We waited nearby for a few minutes to make sure that the place really was deserted, before warily making our way over to the cluster of tents.

'There's our flag,' I told them, pointing to a square of snow-streaked cloth fluttering listlessly at the entrance to the tent. 'We need to work out our strategy.'

Thjon shot a quick glance towards the far end of the valley, where the rocky hills hid the other team's camp from view. 'I say one of us goes out there to try and get their flag, and the others stay here to guard it.'

Karliah shook her head. 'How would one of us get past all of them alone? We'd need two for that job. One to steal it, one to draw them away.'

They both looked at me, as if seeking approval. I shrugged. 'Don't look at me. This is a test of your ability to plan an effective strategy.'

The Nord and the Dark Elf glanced at each other. 'I vote… I stay here, and you two go for their flag,' Thjon said at last. 'I'm worse than useless at sneaking, I'd just get you caught. I'd be more use here defending our base.'

_He knows his strengths and he's not afraid to admit his weaknesses, _I thought appreciatively. 'I've no problem with that,' I said out loud. 'Karliah?'

She nodded. 'That seems sensible.'

There was a sudden flash of light at the corner of my eye, and I turned to see a ball of fire shooting upwards towards the clouds. 'The signal,' Thjon blurted out eagerly. 'The others are ready.'

I looked at my teammates. 'All set?'

Two heads dipped determinedly, and I nodded to Karliah. She carefully selected an arrow, before reaching into her pocket and brought out a small piece of flint and a shard of steel, which she knocked together with deft, practised movement. Before long, she had set the shaft of the arrow aflame and was cautiously fitting it to her bow, taking care not to set fire to the bowstring as she did so. Drawing back the string until the fletching brushed against her cheek, she aimed the arrowhead towards the sky and fired. We all watched as it scorched a blazing trail through the air, burning brightly for a few seconds before the wind extinguished the flame and the arrow disappeared from view.

'Nice shot,' Thjon complimented her.

Karliah lowered her bow. 'Thank you.'

'So, the game is on,' I announced. 'Let's get moving.'

I had to admit that I felt distinctly uncomfortable about leaving Thjon behind at the camp alone with only the horses for company. There was no telling what might befall him. I wished I could have taken a larger group with me, but with the twins and Mercer away on jobs and Ahsla still recovering from her injured arm, it had been impossible. Still, Thjon was a strong fighter and he had plenty of sense. I knew that he wouldn't take any risks that might get him killed, and he should be able to withstand any attacks. After all, there were few bandits in this area – the Forsworn had seen to that – and the only other enemies he was likely to encounter would be wolves and the occasional sabre cat, both of which would be nothing but a small annoyance to the powerful Nord.

As we walked, Karliah and I decided that ttacking Silverleaf Redoubt from the front would be impossible. Elandine's team, being on higher ground, would have the advantage, and they would be able to see us coming from a mile off. Consequently, we were forced to take a far longer route around, one which involved scrambling up the sides of several small cliffs in order to ambush them from behind. Finally, we found ourselves at the top of the ridge overlooking the enemy's camp, gazing down on it from above.

'Delvin's there,' Karliah hissed, peering over the edge. 'No sign of the others.'

I nodded. Though the trees and rocks hid most of the camp from view, I trusted the Elf's superior vision. 'And the Flag?'

'He's got it right next to him.'

I shuffled forwards until I caught a glimpse of the Breton, sitting at the base of the cliff. I gritted my teeth. 'Any ideas for luring him away?'

For answer, the Dunmer carefully nocked an arrow to her bowstring and pointed it upwards and forwards. She released it, and the shaft flew in a high arc before thumping down in the ground several metres away from Delvin. Our Guild brother was on his feet in an instant, stalking towards the source of the noise.

'Does this count as using a weapon unfairly?' the Dark Elf murmured, repeating the performance and drawing him a little further away.

I grinned. 'I'm sure it doesn't.' I glanced down. 'He's far enough away now. Let's move.'

I quickly dropped down from the edge of the cliff, clambering down the rocks as quietly as I could, Karliah a little way behind me. We reached the camp without incident, but as I reached up to pull the flag down from where it was tethered , I realised too late that Delvin had turned around and started to head back towards his base. Upon seeing us, he let out a yell and raced directly towards us, his hands clenching into fists.

'Split up!' I shouted to Karliah, tugging the flag free and running straight towards Delvin. As he neared us, I ducked around him to his left, and Karliah raced by him on his right, and though he tried to grab us both, he ended up slipping on a rock and falling flat on his face. He was up within two seconds, though, and in pursuit of us both. He was a lot faster than I would ever have given him credit for, and I soon found that he was closing in on me. As he reached out to snatch his flag from me, I quickly tossed it to Karliah, who caught it expertly and continued running.

'That's got to be cheatin'!' Delvin howled furiously. 'Two on one is unfair!'

I laughed. 'It's all a test of-'

'Don't even start, Desidenius,' the Breton snapped. 'Let me guess, it's a test of how we cope against superior numbers, right?'

I hurdled a fallen tree. 'You know me too well, my friend.'

If I had been focusing on looking ahead, rather than running, I would have noticed sooner the bursts of light from behind the hill. And even if I had not noticed them, I would have picked up on the fact that Karliah had abruptly stopped dead. But I did not realise until I ran into her.

'Don't stop!' I exclaimed, irritated.

Her response was to point at the horizon. 'Look.'

I followed her outstretched arm with my eyes, and my heart missed a beat.

Fire was raging across the hillside, burning brighter than a thousand suns and fiercer than an angered bear, consuming all in its path. Trees, rocks, bushes – all were swallowed by the encroaching wall of flame. A deer burst from the inferno, its pelt scorched and smoking, racing for cover with a shrill, agonised screaming. Birds were taking flight in all directions. And as I watched, I saw figures behind the fire. Dark figures, with weapons bristling in their hands.

None of us hesitated for a single second. The training mission was forgotten instantly in the face of this new peril. _'Forsworn!' _I spat, drawing my sword and racing forwards, Delvin and Karliah hard on my heels. My heart thumped furiously against my chest as terrible visions of what might have happened to Thjon, Elruen and Elandine flashed through my head. Mercer and I had searched this valley from top to bottom, and everyone we had spoken to had told us that the Forsworn were long gone from Silverleaf Valley, but there could be no other explanation for this. There was no time to consider how this could have happened, because it was happening, and my Guild siblings were in danger. As their Guildmaster, I could not let any harm come to them.

The fire was burning across the width of the valley, but in places there were breaches, where ice spells had frosted the ground and doused the flames. I headed for one such gap with the others right behind me. A familiar hiss split the air and a moment later a barbed, ragged arrow sunk into the ground ahead of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karliah turn mid pace, aim and fire in a swift, fluid movement. A man clad in shabby hide and fur armour toppled from the cliff above, crashing to the ground and lying still, his bow slipping from his hand. As I neared the inferno, a whirlwind of swirling frost obliterated a large section of it, and through the break in the fiery wall I saw Elandine and Elruen standing back to back, firing spell after spell and arrow after arrow, a ring of ragged warriors slowly closing in on them.

I leaped into the fray without hesitation, heading straight for the nearest Forsworn and driving my sword through his back and into his heart. He went limp instantly, the life wiped from his body, and I tossed his body from my blade and turned to face the next foe. I ducked as a crude but deadly-looking war axe swung through the air towards me, and I only just managed to lift my sword in time to block a second as my attacker lunged at my chest. My mind flashed back to one of my many lessons in the Cistern with Blade as I jumped back a pace and swung upwards, knocking one of the axes from the Forsworn's hand with a deft flick. She let out a furious, animalistic hiss and slashed at my neck, but before I could raise my weapon there was a hiss of air, and she was crumpling to the ground, one of Elruen's red-feathered arrows protruding from the back of her head.

'Good of you to join us,' came Elandine's voice, over the sound of the roaring flames. 'We've got quite the party going on here.'

I gasped as an arrow struck my shoulder, luckily not reaching my flesh due to my tough leather shoulder pads. 'Is that so?' I called lightly, sweeping aside a fearsome looking sword made from teeth and sharpened bones, bound together with reeds and strips of leather. 'I must apologise for my lateness, then. It's really quite rude of me to be so behind time.'

'Want to know what else is rude, Imperial?' my opponent spat. 'Chatting to your friends instead of dying already so I can take your stuff.'

I deflected his blow and spun to the side, decapitating him in a single, clean blow. 'Really? I'd say trying to kill us was fairly rude. What do you think, Del?'

The Breton grinned as he knocked his enemy's feet out from under her and drove his dagger into her side. 'I might 'ave to agree with you there, mate. Bad manners, tryin' to murder a bunch of well-meanin' citizens out on a training exercise.'

Another Forsworn lunged at me, his axe cutting open a rip in my tunic. As I parried his next blow, I caught sight of one of his comrades, a man wearing a strange headdress adorned with deer antlers, aiming a spiked wooden staff at the ground. A tongue of fire leaped from the end of the staff, sending another patch of grass up in flames. As I drove my attacker backwards, I noticed that none of the other Forsworn were using magic. If this man could be stopped, the fire could be put under control.

I narrowed my eyes and summoned every last scrap of strength I possessed. I threw my opponent backwards with a powerful blow with the flat of my blade, sending him sprawling onto the ground where a well-aimed bolt of lightning from Elandine swiftly finished him off. Without a moment to catch my breath, I vaulted over his body and advanced on the mage.

As the man turned, I felt my blood run cold. From my first sighting of him, there had been something strangely inhuman about him, something I could not place, but now, as I looked at him properly for the first time, I saw what it was. The man had no heart. He quite literally had no heart. It had been torn from his chest, leaving a wound that would never heal, and in its place… in its place was a bloodstained, red and green object that I dimly recognised from the times I had seen Dralsi, and Karliah after her, use it to brew their potions. I had read of this ritual, the ritual where the cruel, cunning bird-women known as the Hagravens took a man's heart and replaced it with a briar, but never before had I had the misfortune to encounter one who had undergone it. But there could be no doubt now. This man was a Forsworn Briarheart, and he possessed strength far beyond that of ordinary mortals.

For a few seconds I was frozen, staring and blank shock and horror at the terrible sight in front of me. And that shock very nearly cost me my life, for as I stood rooted to the spot, the Briarheart swung the barbed staff towards my head. Had Karliah not seen in time, and had she not loosed an arrow at the critical moment, I might well have been killed. As it was, the black-feathered arrow pierced the man's arm, knocking his strike awry and sending him reeling backwards. Those few crucial seconds were enough for me to gather my senses again and throw myself into the battle.

To be forced to fight a mage is one of the worst things that can happen to a warrior. You cannot block a spell as you can a sword, and they have the power to heal themselves in the middle of battle. The only way to best them is to move like lightning, never letting them land a blow, and striking them hard and fast. And so that was what I did, using every skill Blade had ever taught me, ducking and weaving around the Briarheart with my sword singing as it whipped through the air. He countered my first strike with his staff and drew back out of the way of my second, before sending a burst of fire at my head. Instinct took over me and I dropped onto the ground, sending up a shower of pebbles, ash and snow. The Briarheart lunged down at me, the spikes on his staff aimed at my heart, but I drew back my arm and made a wild, savage slash in his direction. I felt the blade meet flesh and warm blood spattered my armour and face as I opened up a deep, gaping wound on his arm. He howled like a beast as he drew backwards, his eyes wide and his teeth bared in pain.

'Fool!' he snarled, and the voice sounded like the crunch of stone underfoot. 'You dare to fight me? You cannot imagine the power I wield.'

I risked a swift glance around. Elandine was locked in combat with a Forsworn shaman, Karliah and Elruen were on the outskirts of the battle, picking off the enemies one by one, and Delvin had his back to me as he struggled against two opponents at once. None of them were facing me.

I stumbled to my feet and called upon the ancient, dormant power that lay within me, letting it burn through my blood. 'And you have no idea of the power that _I _wield,' I snapped back at the Briarheart, and released the power of the Agent of Subterfuge. My target was a vast warrior, built like a man mountain, wielding an axe I knew I could never have lifted. I watched as he turned, in the middle of charging at Elandine, and hurled himself upon the Briarheart with a bellowed, guttural roar.

The Briarheart's eyes widened further still as he brought up his staff to block the attack. 'Erwan, what in the name of the Divines are you doing?'

The man did not listen, for his mind was mine now. His axe crashed down on the staff, splintering it instantly. Shards of wood scattered in all directions. The Briarheart backed away from his comrade, snatching up a fallen sword as he went. 'Would you betray me, Erwan?' he hissed. 'Then you will suffer like these fools.'

He held out his hand, and fire burst from his palm, setting his foe's armour alight within seconds. Erwan continued to rain blows upon his leader regardless of the flames that licked at his body, a reddish glow surrounding his form and his eyes distant and unfocused. The Briarheart's attacks became increasingly desperate as we both advanced on him. 'This is what happens to all who cross the Guild,' I spat at him, whirling my blade in my hand and preparing to strike a decisive blow.

The Briarheart's face contorted with rage. 'The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!' he screamed, and there was such raw fury behind the words that I drew back in alarm. As I hesitated, he lashed out, and the barbed tip of his crude sword sliced open Erwan's throat. Blood flew through the air as the giant man slumped to the ground and lay in an unmoving heap.

'Your turn,' the Briarheart hissed, and took a step towards me. I stepped back, trying to put some distance between us so I could make more use of my weapon, but as I did so my foot slipped on the slick, blood-coated rocks, and I crashed awkwardly to the ground. My sword slipped from my hand, my head struck stone, and I lay still, breathing hard, the world spinning around me.

The Briarheart stood over me, and I watched helplessly as he raised his sword. 'You die at the hands of the Forsworn,' he jeered. 'Be honoured.'

I reached for my sword, but could not summon the strength to pick it up. Desperately, I tried to stand. Couldn't.

It was over.

And then, as he lifted his hands above his head, I saw that his chest was exposed, and my mind shot backwards in time. Suddenly, it was as if I were ten years old again, facing Mercer for the first time, as we fought on the day we met. I remembered how that battle had ended, and my body moved without my bidding. My hands scrabbled to find purchase on the scorched and blackened earth as I kicked out with both feet, slamming them with all my strength into the Briarheart's stomach. Even as his wordless, breathless cry split the air, I snatched up my sword, forced myself to his feet, and buried my blade in his chest.

He stared at me with dark hatred burning in his eyes as my sword sank into his chest. He grasped the hilt with both hands and pulled himself up the blade, as if still itching to fight me. His mouth opened, and I saw it form words, but no sound came from him. For a few awful seconds, I stared into that malice-filled face. Then suddenly, all the loathing and rage was gone from his eyes, and his body collapsed limply on my blade, empty of soul.

I withdrew my sword and stood panting over his body, my head reeling. The battle raged on around me, but its sounds were dull and muted, for there was a constant ringing in my ears that simply would not go.

And so when by the time I had not only heard Elruen's shout, but registered its meaning, it was far too late.

'Gallus, behind you!'

I turned, but already the heavy wooden cudgel was swinging towards my head. It collided with a dull thud, and I felt myself falling.

I hardly registered the pain that I knew should have followed as the world flipped sideways. Something warm and wet was running down my face, and through a grey haze, I saw the surrounding fire's movements becoming slower and slower. A distant voice rang out, but the words were slurred and muted. A dark shape advanced towards me. I could not tell whether it was a friend or foe, for nothing seemed to make sense any more. Red and white lights exploded inside my head –

- And faded into black.

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**Drama time! XD**

**Again, a massive thank you must be said to ShoutFinder, who proof-read the chapter and helped me overcome my writer's block at the beginning. **

**The next chapter will be up soon. One member of the team is going to find their life in danger, and Gallus will have to risk his own life to save them... **

**Thanks for reading!**


	26. Together

**Hello again, readers!**

**I must point out that this was one of those chapters that pretty much wrote itself. I wasn't entirely certain where it was going, but it just took me in random directions and I followed it. Also, it was originally going to be much longer, but I decided to split it up, so the next chapter will be shorter than average.**

**The Forsworn names in this chapter are taken from a list of traditional Gaelic names, because the Forsworn all seem to have Gaelic names.**

**Ok, enough from me. Gallus is much more interesting than I am.**

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Either I was reluctant to return to reality, or reality simply did not want me to come back.

The world faded back into being so slowly that with every second that passed, I felt more and more afraid that I would not be able to pass back into the realm of the living. It was as if I were hanging from the edge of a cliff, and though I was striving with all my might to haul myself back onto solid ground, gravity was pulling me relentlessly down, and at any moment my grip might loosen or the edge might crumble beneath my fingers. And if that happened, I would fall, and I would keep falling, and I would fall into the depths of Oblivion, and away from life.

Perhaps a few years ago I would not have fought so hard. Perhaps when I was younger I might have let myself fall. But something had changed since the day that Blade's bright copper eyes had slid shut forever. I had changed. I had become a Guildmaster, a leader, not merely a brother but also something of a father to all the thieves who served under me. My bond to the Guild had grown so much stronger, and the sense of responsibility that I felt for them had never been so overwhelming. I had made my family into my entire life, and I simply could not let them go. And so I clung onto life, and slowly but surely, the world started to return.

The first thing I became aware of was pain, but that did not surprise me. This was the third time in my life I had fallen into unconsciousness. The first time was when the wolves had ambushed me when I was seven. The second was when I had taken that guard's sword in the chest the day Sereniel had died. Both times my waking had been agonising, and both times I had felt like dying the instant I awoke. But if I could survive that, I could survive this too.

As before, everything began to drift back into existence. Blocking out the agony in my pounding head, I focused my attention on the world around me. I could feel a cold breeze stirring my hair, and something wet against my skin above my left eye. At first I thought it might be my own blood, but it was far too cold. Struggling to win my battle with the grey mist that was hiding everything from view, I forced myself to make sense of the scene. Dark shapes huddled around me, and familiar voices rang in my ears.

'Is he all right?'

'Move back. Make some space.'

'Where did you put that potion?'

'Everyone, I think he's awake.'

The events of the day came rushing back to me without warning – the ill-fated training mission, the fire, the Forsworn. I remembered battling the Briarheart, and hearing Elruen's shout, and turning around too late to avoid the blow, and feeling the club collide with my head and send me sprawling to the ground. I remembered the darkness closing in and engulfing everything. I remembered feeling the world fall away, as I crashed into the realm of unconsciousness…

_The others! _The panicked words sounded inside my mind as I remembered my friends. Elandine, Delvin, Elruen, Thjon, Karliah – what had become of them? The fighting had been fierce, and any one of them could have been badly injured, or even killed.

The thought was enough to force me back over the edge of the cliff in my mind. The haze in front of my eyes began to fade. My head was whirling, and it felt as fragile as if it were ready to fall into twenty pieces the moment I moved, but the pain was slowly draining away. Gradually, bit by bit, the world flickered into view – first the sky, bright and blue and clear of clouds. Then the mountains around me, craggy, twisted and forbidding. Then the scorched and blackened earth around me, and the charred remains of the trees that had been caught in the blaze. And to my relief, I finally saw the blurred shapes of my fellow thieves, staring fearfully down at me.

I found myself gazing into the eyes of two elf women – one pair piercing green, the other deep indigo. For a few seconds, I struggled to connect the faces with their owners, and then finally I managed it. Elandine and Karliah.

'Gallus, can you hear me?' It was Elandine who spoke, her usually brash and confident voice filled with anxiety.

The words pounded in my skull until I felt my mind would explode. 'Only too well,' I muttered, reaching up to clutch my head.

The High Elf batted my hand away. 'Keep still. Do you want us to heal you or not? You'll kill yourself if you keep moving.'

Karliah frowned. 'I think that's a bit of an exaggeration.'

'I hope so,' I murmured, but I obediently lay without moving, and allowed the two elves to continue their work. I winced as Karliah poured a few drops of a strange, crimson-coloured potion onto a cloth and pressed it against my forehead, and I felt my body tense instinctively from the stinging pain that instantly followed.

'Keep _still,' _Elandine snapped again, directing a burst of healing magic at me. 'You're making it worse.'

Karliah shot me an apologetic smile. 'Sorry. I know it stings, but it's got to be done.'

I nodded. 'Go right ahead,' I told her weakly, and closed my eyes as I waited for them to finish.

For about five minutes, they continued to fuss over me, before finally sitting back. 'All right, that'll do,' Elandine grunted. 'You can get up.'

I didn't feel quite up to standing yet, so instead I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I swept my gaze over my Guild siblings, all standing or crouching nearby, their expressions worried and their faces pale. Around them were scattered the limp forms of several Forsworn bandits, their blood still soaking into the singed earth, their eyes gazing sightlessly at the sky. I swallowed hard. I had come so close to joining them in death. It would have been so easy for one of them to run me through whilst I was down. My fellow thieves had certainly saved my life.

'What happened?' I asked, somewhat stupidly.

Elandine snorted. 'You got knocked out, idiot.'

I wasn't at all offended. I knew from years of friendship with the Altmer that her harsh attitude on occasions like this was only born out of concern. 'I meant, what happened afterwards?' I clarified quickly. 'The Forsworn – they're gone?'

'Either dead or fled,' Delvin confirmed, with a small nod, a strange bitterness in his eyes.

'You can thank Thjon for that,' Karliah told me quietly, not meeting my gaze as she spoke. 'He arrived in the nick of time. We might not have been able to keep fighting if he hadn't turned up.'

Elandine's voice was suddenly harsh. 'We should have stopped this from happening.' She looked away, uncharacteristic guilt on her usually emotionless face. 'I'm sorry, Gallus. It was my fault. I should have been more careful.'

Elruen shook his head at her. 'It was nothing to do with you, El. All of us are responsible.'

'I don't think anyone could have stopped it,' Karliah told them softly. 'There were just too many of them and too few of us.'

I couldn't help but feel confused. I could count on my fingers the number of times I had heard Elandine apologise to anyone. She and all of the others were acting as if something truly terrible had happened. But I was alive, and I hadn't been badly hurt. What was there to be so distressed about? 'No harm done,' I shrugged, trying to reassure them. 'My head feels as if it's been trodden on by a mammoth, but I'll live.'

In unison, they glanced swiftly at each other, and I saw uneasy fear flit across their faces. Instantly, my heart clenched, for I had been living with these people long enough to know what those faces meant. There was something they were concealing, something they had not told me – something they did not want to tell me.

I looked from face to face, my eyes narrowing. They dropped their gazes, staring hard at the ash-coated grass. No matter how hard I gazed at them, not one out of the four of them would meet my eyes.

The realisation hit me hard, fast and without warning, as if I had been struck by lightning.

_The four of them?_

I froze, stared, and counted again. Four. Not five. _Four._

'Where's Thjon?' The words broke abruptly from my mouth and hung in the air between us. Silence fell as they faded away- silence that dragged on and on.

I stared into each of their faces. Karliah let out a small, shaky breath. Elandine's jaw clenched. Delvin's mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to speak, but could not find the right words. Elruen gazed stonily at the charred ground, his face grim.

A mixture of blank fear and bitter rage built up within me. 'Where is he?' I repeated, my voice rising and my hands curling into tightly clenched fists.

For a few more seconds, none of them moved or spoke. Then finally, Karliah raised her head, drew in a long, deep breath, and looked right at me, her face set.

'They took him,' she told me, her voice trembling slightly. 'The Forsworn. They took him.'

In the hush that followed her words, a small bird chirped merrily in the burnt, leafless tree nearby, fluttered its wings, and launched itself into the air, quickly vanishing behind the rocky, towering hills. I gazed in stunned disbelief at the Breton and the three elves, my blood suddenly running cold in my veins. Every sound, however quiet, seemed suddenly loud as a clap of thunder, and the tiniest of movements instantly drew my eye. It was one of those moments that seem to last for a painful eternity.

Finally, I regained the ability to form words in my dry throat. 'And you let them?' I hissed incredulously.

Delvin and Karliah both flinched visibly, Elandine ground her teeth together, and an outraged expression crossed Elruen's face. 'We would have stopped them if we could!' the Bosmer burst out, his voice taut with anger. 'Do you think we wouldn't have done?'

Shaking his head, Delvin placed a hand on the Wood Elf's shoulder. 'Cut that out, mate. It ain't helpin'.'

'We tried, Gallus,' Elandine said heavily. 'Believe me, we tried. But if we'd gone after them, you could have been killed. We had no idea how badly hurt you were, and they could easily have finished you off while you were unconscious.'

Delvin nodded. 'We 'ad to make a choice,' he said grimly. 'Stay, an' let one of our junior members maybe die. Or try to save him, and have our one and only Guildmaster definitely die.'

'It had to be you we saved, Gallus.' Karliah lowered her head, her voice sombre. 'It could only be you.'

Elruen murmured in agreement, stirring restlessly as he clasped and unclasped his hands.

Visions flashed unbidden through my mind. Pictures of Thjon being dragged away, struggling with all his strength but unable to break free. Terrible images of him being bound, tortured, even killed. And one that simply would not vanish – one of Henja's horrified, heartbroken face when I told her what had become of her son…

I opened my mouth, ready to express all the anger I felt towards the others for not having saved Thjon.

And closed it again.

I hesitated, allowing my mind to travel backwards in time. I imagined that I was a junior member again, and it was Blade, not me, who had been leading the mission. I pictured the Argonian being felled in my place, and the Forsworn taking Thjon, and myself having to make the decision. Save Thjon, or let Blade die?

I knew what I would have chosen. In such a situation, there could only be one answer. A possible death was a hundred times better than a certain death. And I knew that if it had been Blade, I would have chosen him over any one of the others – apart from maybe Mercer. It was wrong of me to be angry at my friends. In fact, the anger I felt was not for them at all. It was partly for the Forsworn, but mostly it was for myself. If I had not allowed myself to be knocked out, if I had just finished off that Briarheart a little more quickly, if I had kept on fighting and not let myself fall, then my brothers and sisters would never have had to choose between Thjon and me. No, I was not angry at them. I had just needed to let out my anger and they had been the only people around. Sickened and ashamed, I gritted my teeth. My loyalty to Henja meant that I could not condone their choice, but neither could I condemn it. They had done what I would almost certainly have done in their place, done what they had thought was right. That was not to say it _was _right – no one mortal life is worth more than another's – but I could understand why they had done it.

And, in my heart of hearts, I was immensely grateful to them for saving me. And though I was loathe to admit it to myself, I was honoured that they had been willing to risk sacrificing a friend in order to ensure my survival.

But I could not avoid the fact that I was partly responsible for this. If I hadn't let myself be beaten, Thjon would be safe.

And as his Guildmaster, his brother and his friend, I would see him safe now. I had failed him once. I would not do so again.

I breathed in a long, deep breath. 'All right,' I said quietly, pulling myself together at last. 'How long have I been out?

Elandine glanced quickly at the position of the sun. 'Not more than ten or fifteen minutes.'

I nodded. 'Good. They don't have too long on us.' I paused, trying to think what else I needed to know. 'The last time you saw Thjon, he was definitely alive?'

Elruen gave a quick jerk of his head. 'Yes. Alive, and yelling at us to forget about him and make sure you were all right.'

There was so much anger and accusation in his voice that I had to force myself not to flinch. Elandine huffed disapprovingly, Delvin looked taken aback, and Karliah shot him a filthy look. Even Elruen himself looked surprised at his own words.

I didn't blame him for his bitterness. He and Thjon were good friends. I knew that I would be furious if anyone allowed Mercer to be captured. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt by his attitude, but it was understandable. I decided to move swiftly on. 'Very well. And which way did they go?'

'Towards the far side of the valley.' Elandine pointed over the blackened hill, in the direction of Flint Rock redoubt. 'I didn't see where exactly they went, but it was in that direction.'

'And are any of you hurt?'

They all shook their heads apart from Delvin. 'I took a bit of a battering, but the girls sorted me out,' he told me.

'Then let's move. Now.' I tried to get to my feet, but the world spun in a crazy circle as I did so and I sat down again with a small gasp. Karliah held out her hand, and I grasped it gratefully, allowing her to haul me up. My head pounded and the mountains seemed to lurch, and briefly I wondered if I was about to bring up my breakfast. To my sincere relief, after I had stood still for a few seconds, the landscape stopped spinning and my vision cleared.

Elandine looked at me through narrowed eyes. 'I'm not certain you're ready to go running off on any rescue missions just yet, Desidenius.'

'I'll be fine. Don't worry about me,' I told her firmly. There was no way I was about to allow my own body to stop me rescuing Thjon. 'I've been through far worse.'

The High Elf let out one of her short, bark-like laughs. 'I know, and I've usually been the one who's had to heal you.'

Elruen picked up his bow and quiver and slung them over his shoulder. 'Come on, then. Let's not waste any more time.'

We set off, with Elruen and Karliah, who had most experience in tracking, leading the way. I followed a few steps behind them, trying to hide the fact that I was finding it hard to put one foot in front of the other. I did my best to block out the queasy feeling – I had more important things to worry about. My Guild brother was in danger.

After about five minutes, we arrived at Flint Rock redoubt. It was deserted, as it had been when we had left, apart from our horses. I felt my insides twist as I saw Thjon's steed standing patiently beside the others, completely unaware that his master might never ride him again. I wondered for a moment whether it would have been wiser for us to set off on horseback, but instantly decided that going on foot would be better. I wasn't at all sure I would be up to riding. Despite the best efforts of my Guild sisters, I felt as fragile as if my entire body were made of glass.

Elruen and Karliah bent down near the entrance of the redoubt, examining the ground closely. It was Elruen who first came up with a clue. 'Here,' he shouted triumphantly, holding up what looked like a speckled brown feather that had been crushed and broken. 'It's from one of their headdresses.'

Karliah took it from him and turned it over in her hands. 'It's been trodden on,' she remarked. 'Which is a sign that someone dropped it, and one of their friends, following behind them, ran over it.'

The Wood Elf advanced a few paces. 'Footprints,' he called suddenly, his words sharp with excitement. 'They headed this way.'

The two elves continued to follow the trail that the Forsworn had left behind, with the rest of us trailing after, not speaking except to suggest an opinion on the newest piece of evidence that the two trackers discovered. It came as a surprise to all of us when Delvin suddenly spoke up.

'There's one thing I don't understand,' he admitted. 'Why'd they want to take Thjon alive? What's the use? Why not just kill him straight off and have done with it?'

I pursed my lips. 'I've been thinking about that,' I told him grimly. 'I've come up with a few theories, and none of them make the situation any more cheerful.'

Elruen shrugged. 'We weren't expecting them to. We might as well hear them. It's not as if things can get much worse.'

I sighed. 'Well, the first idea I had was that they wanted him as a hostage. We're all in Guild armour; the Forsworn will have guessed who we are. They could make plenty of demands with Thjon as their prisoner. We're a prosperous business, and they know it.'

'You think they want him as a bargaining tool?' Delvin asked, fury burning in his eyes.

'I don't know. It's likely, but we can't be certain.' I bit my lip. 'And the other theory I have is that it was simply because he's a Nord.'

Karliah and Elandine both tensed angrily, and I remembered that as a Dunmer and an Altmer, they would both have experienced more than their fair share of racial prejudice throughout their lives. Elruen nodded bleakly. 'That would make sense. The Forsworn feel that the Nords were responsible for driving them out of their homes and into exile. It wouldn't matter to them that Thjon had done nothing of the kind. They'd just be glad they had someone to take out their anger on. Never mind the fact that he was completely innocent.'

Elandine looked uneasy. 'It could be either one of those. Or even both.' She grimaced. 'Or they could want him for… other purposes.'

Delvin looked at her in confusion. 'What kind of other purposes?'

The High Elf sighed. 'The Forsworn are adept warriors, but they're mages too, and they don't know the meaning of justice or morals. Thjon is the strongest of all of us. I did consider that they might want him for a thrall.'

There was a terrible, deathly silence as her words sank in. 'They wouldn't,' Elruen hissed.

'They would,' I replied resignedly. 'They'd be more than happy to gain a strong slave who was a fierce fighter. They'd be more than happy to risk our retribution. After all, they outnumber us. You can't expect mercy from these people. They're desperate men.'

Delvin spat onto the grass. 'They make me ashamed to call myself a Breton,' he snarled in disgust.

We walked on in an apprehensive and morose silence.

After maybe ten more minutes, we found ourselves standing at the base of yet another cliff – sheer, high and unyielding. We walked up and down the length of it, trying to find a way up, but there was none. It was too steep, too smooth, too slippery. A gang of Forsworn as large as the one we were following could not hope to climb up it so quickly, without leaving traces. After several minutes of fruitless searching, we stood together at the base, staring up at the vast wall of rock.

'There's gotta be a way up,' Delvin burst out, his frustration clear on his face. 'They couldn't just vanish into thin air.'

Elandine frowned. 'Technically, they could, if they were skilled enough in Illusion magic.'

'I don't understand it,' Elruen growled, ignoring Elandine. 'The trail leads up to the base off the cliff, and then it stops. They definitely came this far.'

I chewed on my lip as I tried to gather my thoughts. 'We need to think this through logically,' I announced. 'They can't have climbed up, and they can't have just disappeared. But they definitely came here. So it follows that they got past this cliff some way. And if they couldn't go over it, and they couldn't go around it, and they couldn't go under it…'

Karliah was the first to catch on. 'They'd have had to go through it.'

Delvin stared at her. 'Seriously? Through a cliff of solid rock?'

'Perhaps not as solid as we thought.' Elandine stepped forward until her face was almost touching the rocky wall. 'Gallus and Karliah are right. There's got to be a secret passage through here. We just need to find it.'

We resumed our searching, more frantically this time. We tugged at every plant and likely-looking rock in the hope that it might be a lever. We peered into every crevice. We even tapped on the stone to see if there were any patches that were hollow. It was Delvin who finally found what we were looking for. 'Over here,' he called suddenly, his voice urgent. 'I think I might've found it.'

We hurried over quickly. The Breton had swept aside a tangle of thick, rain-soaked ivy to reveal a small pull chain hidden in a gap between two rocks. At first I was furious with myself for not noticing it earlier; then I reminded myself that it was in such a position that none of us would ever have found it if we hadn't been looking for it.

Gathering around, the five of us looked apprehensively at the handle. 'Are we pulling it?' Elruen asked.

'Guess we're gonna have to,' Delvin shrugged, reaching for it.

'Anything could be on the other side. Be prepared for the worst,' Elandine muttered warningly, charging up a lightning spell in both hands. 'We've already learned not to put anything past these people.'

Elruen and Karliah reached for their bows; Delvin's free hand stayed to his dagger, and I wrapped my fingers around the hilt of my sword. The Breton glanced at me, seeking approval, and I nodded. 'Let's go.'

Delvin gave the chain a sharp tug downwards, before stepping back to watch what happened.

For a few terrible moments, the entire world seemed to stand still. Nothing moved, not even the tiniest amount, and I began to fear that all our efforts had been in vain. But then, slowly, gradually, bit by bit, a small patch of rock began to grind downwards, sinking into the ground as if the earth had opened its mouth and was steadily swallowing it. As it disappeared, it revealed a dark passage leading away into the side of the cliff. Unlit. Pitch black. But the only way forwards.

There was a lengthy pause.

'Well, doesn't that look inviting?' Delvin said sarcastically.

Elandine stepped into the entrance. The lightning in her left hand was replaced by a dazzling white glow. The Altmer lifted her palm, and a small, glowing ball of light rose above her head, illuminating the dark passageway. 'I can't see anything,' she called back to us. 'It looks all right.'

_Looks can be deceiving, _I thought uneasily, but I stepped forwards to take the lead regardless. It felt somehow wrong for me to be hanging back and letting the others show the way. I was their Guildmaster – leading these people was my duty. And I would rather die than fail in my duty to the Guild. They were my family, and I had a responsibility to watch over them.

With Elandine lighting the way, we slowly progressed down the tunnel. It was narrow, so that we had to make our way through in single file, and the ceiling was so low that Elandine, the tallest of us, had to stop several times to disentangle her hair from cobwebs, and occasionally let out muffled exclamations of frustration and pain as she caught her head against the rocks. It was impossible not to feel on edge. If the entrance were to shut while we were still inside, and if we could find no way out, we would be completely trapped. I did not mind the darkness, but the knowledge that it would be so easy for us to become stuck within the passage was no less than terrifying. I could tell that my companions felt the same way as me – they walked hurriedly, not speaking, casting anxious glances from side to side thought they knew there was nothing to see apart from the rocky walls and the nervous faces of their friends. We could not have been inside for more than two minutes, but it seemed more like two years. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep going. _One step after another, _I told myself firmly. _Just keep going. Keep going. Keep – _

I stopped abruptly.

'What's up?' called Delvin, from the back of the group.

'Why have you stopped?' Elruen's voice echoed unnaturally off the walls.

I gazed into the blackness ahead of me and held out a hand. It touched cold, hard stone.

'Dead end,' I said quietly, but the sounds reverberated through the tunnel, amplified a hundred times.

A rustling sound came from behind me as the others shifted uneasily. 'So we're trapped?' Elandine asked tensely.

'Maybe not.' It was Karliah who spoke, somehow managing to sound frightened and calm at the same time. 'This could just be the end of the tunnel. There might be a lever, or another pull chain.'

Even with Elandine's Candlelight spell, it was nearly impossible to see, so I used my hands instead, carefully running them over the walls, trying to find a handle, a button, anything that might open the way for us. I cannot be certain how long we stayed there, desperately searching, but it seemed to take days. Time after time, I found nothing but smooth rock, and I felt my hopes dying with every second that passed. And then I felt metal instead of stone, and with a gasp of relief I found my fingers encircling a small iron ring. A single sharp pull was all it took, and the wall in front of us was sinking into the ground the same way that the one on the entrance had, and light was shining through into the tunnel. Our eyes had become used to the gloom, so much so that the sudden brightness was dazzling, and we found we had to quickly shield our eyes. But as we stepped, blinking, out into the daylight again, I received the distinct feeling that never before had a group of thieves been so glad to leave the darkness.

The rest of the group trailed out after me, and we stood together in the brilliant sunshine, gazing wide-eyed at the scene before us.

Silverleaf Valley, it appeared, was far larger than it seemed. And nestled within it, hidden from the outside world by the towering cliffs and forbidding hills was the largest Forsworn camp that I have ever had the misfortune to see in my entire lifetime. The entire hillside in front of us was almost hidden from view by wooden walkways, walls made of sharpened stakes, tents of deer hide and blazing campfires. The whole place was swarming with Forsworn, seething with them in the way that a hide seethes with bees. They were everywhere – standing guard, sitting around the fires, practicing their weapon skills. Everywhere we looked, there was an enemy. The only small mercy was that a rocky outcrop and a row of dark, shady pine trees provided cover for us, hiding us from the view of our foes.

We instinctively crouched down, out of sight, huddling against the rocks. 'For want of a better word, dammit,' Delvin muttered, gazing apprehensively at the vast mass of Forsworn.

I swallowed fearfully, but tried to maintain something of a confident expression for the sake of keeping my companions sure of themselves. If I lost face, so would they.

'By the Eight,' Elruen breathed. 'How in the name of Oblivion are we going to rescue Thjon from that horde?'

None of us answered, and our silence showed that we were all thinking the same thing. A pang of sorrow ran through me as I thought about how Thjon would have been roused to anger by the Wood Elf's comment. He would have insisted that there were nine Divines. The fact that nobody made that protest was almost painful.

And then fury began to burn inside me. Thjon was my brother in crime, and the son of one of my greatest friends. What right did these people have to take him? How dare they? They would pay for what they had done a thousand times over. I would make them pay. My Guild siblings and I would rescue Thjon – and nothing was going to stand in our way. Not the Forsworn. Not anybody.

'We can do this,' I told my friends, and the amount of certainty in my voice took me by surprise. 'They outnumber us. They have our friend prisoner. They hold all the cards. But Thjon is our brother. We are his family. We will save him.'

I turned to them, and I saw my own steely resolution mirrored on their faces. 'No matter what they thought they could gain by taking him, we will prove to them that they should never have crossed the Guild,' I continued firmly. 'They think that we are too few to pose any threat to them; they think that we cannot hope to defeat them. We shall show them that they were wrong. Together, we will make each and every one of them rue the day they went up against the Thieves Guild. I do not know how we are going to do this, nor what it might cost us. All I know is that our friend is a prisoner, and we must go to his aid. We should not be afraid of these evil men. For we are the Thieves Guild, and together, we are strong enough to overcome any who dare to stand against us.'

There was a long, drawn-out pause as I finished.

'If I wasn't worried about alerting each and every Forsworn in the area, I'd give that a round of applause,' Elandine told me, smirking.

I couldn't stop myself from flushing slightly. 'Yes, well, unfortunately no amount of public speaking skill is going to make the Forsworn hand over Thjon. We need to spy on them; see if we can find him.' I frowned, knowing that it was my duty to make a plan. 'If we were able to sneak over to that pile of rocks over there without being detected, we'd have a clear view of their camp and it would be hard for them to see us. We need to try and work out where Thjon is before we can try to rescue him.'

I glanced at them, half expecting one of them to disagree, but none of them spoke, so I continued. 'Two of us should try to make it to the rocks, and the others should stay here. I'll go, and…' I swept my eyes over them. 'Delvin? You're probably the best at stealth here.'

The Breton nodded determinedly. 'Sure.'

'Actually…' came a hesitant voice.

Four heads turned towards Elruen, and he snapped of the sentence and ducked his head, looking faintly embarrassed that he'd spoken up.

'Go on, Elruen,' I encouraged him quietly. 'Say what's on your mind.'

The Bosmer shrugged slightly. 'I was just thinking. That camp is a long way away, even if you are looking at it from those rocks. I don't want to sound rude, but… human eyes aren't the best for seeing at a distance.'

I chuckled. 'That's not called being rude, Elruen. That's called stating the truth.'

Delvin nodded. 'He's right. He or Karliah would do a much better job than I would. You're both archers. There ain't no one who's got better eyesight than an archer.'

Elandine jerked her head in agreement. 'Which of you is it going to be?' she asked, with characteristic bluntness.

The Dunmer and the Bosmer glanced at each other, before bending down a little and holding a hurried, whispered conversation. I could not catch a single word, and they spoke so quietly and quickly that it was a wonder that either of them could hear the other. But then, Mer hearing was just as good as Mer eyesight.

Finally, they straightened up, nodding. 'I'll go,' Karliah announced, her voice quiet but certain. 'And I think it might be wiser for us to use these.'

Her hand slipped into the small satchel that she always kept at her belt. After a few seconds of rummaging inside, she pulled out a pair of small glass bottles filled with a shimmering, colourless liquid. 'Invisibility potions?' I asked, impressed.

She held one out to me. 'It'll make it easier to remain undetected.'

I removed the cork and swirled the potion around the bottle, trying to work out what it contained. 'Nirnroot, chaurus eggs and luna moth wings?' I guessed, glancing up at the Dark Elf.

She shook her head. 'I used ice wraith teeth, not moth wings. I would have preferred crimson Nirnroot, but it's hard to get hold of.' She paused thoughtfully. 'Vampire dust works quite well, too.'

'You two can have a fascinating little alchemical discussion later,' Elandine interrupted. 'But for now, you've got work to do, remember?'

I short her apologetic smile and tipped the potion down my throat. It was unnaturally tasteless, and it chilled the inside of my mouth as I swallowed it. I set down the bottle on the rocks and watched as my body faded from view. It was a strange sensation, but oddly satisfying. As a thief, I spent most of my life trying to make myself invisible. Now I was.

'Come on,' I muttered to Karliah, before carefully slipping out from the cover of the trees. I felt horribly exposed out in the open, despite the invisibility induced by the potion, and I half expected arrows and spells to come flying at me at any moment. The outcrop of rocks suddenly seemed much farther away. I half crept, half ran towards the shelter of the boulders, keeping my eyes on the Forsworn camp as I went. It was hard to believe that they still had not seen us, but then again, why would they even expect us to be here? There were at least forty of them and only five of us – why would we risk death trying to find them? Their home was hidden – how would we be able to find the way in? They might have had superior numbers, but we had the element of surprise. Perhaps the odds were more even than I had thought.

Arriving at the cluster of rocks, I crouched down out of sight and waited for Karliah to arrive. A few seconds later, a small patch of disturbance in the air warped and melted into colour, revealing the Dunmer standing next to me. She hurriedly ducked down behind the boulders, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her eyes.

I peered over the rim of the rock I was hidden behind. We were about halfway between the Forsworn camp and the line of pines where our companions were hidden. It was a little easier to see from here, though the scurrying figures of the Forsworn looked about the size of ants. I shot a look at Karliah, hoping she would be able to get a better view than I would. 'Can you see anything?'

She carefully poked her head over the boulders and gazed at the camp for a few silent seconds. 'There must be about forty of them,' she said at last. 'I think there are three Briarhearts, but I can't be sure. And a Hagraven.'

I cursed mentally. There were few creatures that could match the grotesque bird-women for wickedness, guile and cruelty. They were not only fierce fighters with both magic and their razor-sharp talons, they were utterly without mercy. I doubted that they even knew the meaning of the word. We were lucky that there was only one.

'What about Thjon?' I asked urgently. 'Can you see him?'

She frowned, focusing hard, in the same way that I had seen her concentrate so many times before as she prepared to loose an arrow at a target in the Cistern. For could not have been more than half a minute but seemed like far longer, she was frozen, staring. And then suddenly her eyes stretched wide, and her mouth dropped open a little. 'There!' she hissed, and I felt my heart leap.

'Where is he?' I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun as I tried to catch any sight of the stocky, blond Nord among the slim, dark-haired Bretons.

She pointed. 'The wooden platform, in the centre. The one with the fencing around it. He's tied to a post. On the left. You see him?'

Cursing the fact that the Divines had plagued my people with poor vision, I squinted at the camp, desperately trying to find my Guild brother. My gaze found the platform, swept over its length. And then, without warning, a flash of yellow-gold caught my eye.

It could only be Thjon, and when I looked closer, straining my eyes with all my might, I could see him clearly. He was bound, as Karliah had said, to a post on the fencing around the rim of the platform. He was too far away for me to tell whether or not he was moving. My delight at having found him was quickly replaced with worry. I cast a worried look at Karliah. 'Are we sure he's even alive?'

To my relief, she dipped her head. 'He's alive all right. I might have my doubts, if he didn't seem to be hurling abuse at that Hagraven.'

I chuckled. 'Well, that's a small comfort. Now we just need to work out how to get him out of there.'

'We can't attack that place openly,' Karliah said instantly. 'We'd be slaughtered before we got twenty paces.'

'Unfortunately, I think you might be right,' I agreed. I frowned, considering our options. 'What about a stealth attack? If we waited until nightfall, we might have a far better chance. Most of them would be asleep, and reeping around in the dark is what we're best at, after all.'

The Dark Elf shrugged. 'True, but remember, we still aren't certain what they want Thjon for. We should try to rescue him as soon as possible. I'm not sure we can afford to wait until dark.'

I gritted my teeth. She was right again. With no idea of their intentions for capturing the Nord, we did not know how long they would be keeping him prisoner for. They might well simply decide to kill him and put an end to it.

'We could always try negotiating with them,' I suggested. 'If we could actually make them listen, that is. Ask them what they want with Thjon. If they want to demand something in exchange for his life, then we'll just have to do our best to meet that demand. It would be a lot easier than fighting.'

'But how do we approach them to ask without getting shot?'

A long sigh escaped me. 'I don't know,' I replied truthfully. 'We'd better get back to the others and make a plan together. I don't suppose you've got any more invisibility potions?'

She reached into her bag again. 'Plenty.'

We crossed back to the small pine grove to find that we had somehow managed to miss a small battle. Elruen stood on a rock, an arrow quivering on his bowstring. Green light was flickering around Elandine's hands. And Delvin, somewhat to my surprise, was sitting on a motionless young Forsworn, carelessly tossing his dagger from hand to hand.

I glanced at Karliah, who seemed as taken aback as I did, before glancing at the former assassin. 'Delvin? Why exactly are you sitting on that man?'

The Breton grinned at me. 'Needs must, Gallus. We caught this delightful character slipping back through the tunnel, and we thought it'd be better that he didn't go runnin' off to tell all his little friends we're here. Elandine says the paralysis spell's gonna wear off in a few minutes, and we don't 'ave nothing to tie him up with.'

I scowled, irritated. 'I think you mean that you don't have _anything _to tie him up with.'

'There's a time and a place for quibbling about grammar, Desidenius,' Elandine called.

I nodded. 'Fine. How much longer have we got before he can move again?'

The High Elf shrugged. 'Twenty seconds?'

I crouched down beside the young man, taking a good look at him. Like most Bretons, his skin was pale and his hair was dark, almost black but not quite. There was a streak of purple warpaint above his left eye, with two more below. His two swords – made from sharpened bone tied to a piece of wood, like most Forsworn weapons – lay on the ground nearby. He did not seem to be much of a threat in his current state. 'Get off him, Del,' I ordered my Guild brother.

The Breton reluctantly obeyed. 'Elruen,' I continued, 'Keep aiming that arrow at him. If he moves, shoot him.'

'It would be a pleasure, Gallus,' the Wood Elf growled.

I waited, gazing intently at the Reachman, until finally the stiffness in his limbs faded and the blank, frozen expression stamped on his face was replaced by one of smouldering anger. He placed his hands on the grass as if he was about to push himself to his feet; then he cast a look at Elruen and decided against it. He rolled onto his back and glared at me. 'What do you want with me?' he snarled.

I met his gaze evenly. 'What's your name?'

The Forsworn recoiled, as if my words had punched him in the stomach. 'What's it to you, Imperial?'

Despite the anger in his voice, I detected a slight waver to the words, and I felt a small amount of satisfaction. He was putting on a brave face, but I could tell that in truth, he was frightened. He feared for his life, and I was going to take advantage of that for certain. 'What's your name, please?' I repeated firmly, staring into his eyes in the same way that I would look at a junior Guild member who had questioned my authority or disobeyed one of my orders.

He looked back at me for a few seconds, then swallowed and looked at the ground. 'Padraig,' he muttered.

Delvin let out a loud, contemptuous scorn, not even attempting to conceal his scorn. 'Padraig? What sort of a name is that for a Breton?'

The Forsworn's eyes flashed. 'It's a Reachman name. And it's my name. Want to make something of it, milk-drinker?'

Elruen coughed. 'One move, Forsworn scum…'

Padraig's anger seemed to be replaced by anxiety, and he drew in a shaky breath.

'Listen, Padraig,' I said quietly. 'Our friend has been captured by your companions. He's a Nord. His name is Thjon. Do you know anything about it?'

The young Reachman nodded uncertainly. 'Yes. I was at the redoubt when they brought him in. I only left because Morvan sent me out to try and find his staff. He dropped it on the way here.' There was a sudden resentment in the man's voice, and I instantly received the impression that Padraig was at the bottom of the hierarchy of this group of Fosworn, at the beck and call of his superiors. And it seemed that he was not entirely happy with the situation. Perhaps we could make some use of that.

'Do you know why they wanted Thjon?' I demanded.

He was silent.

'Spit it out, you wretched human,' Elandine snapped. 'Was it for bargaining? Racial hatred? For a thrall? We haven't got all day.'

Padraig hesitated, looking nervously between us. 'I don't know much. Just what some of the others told me. Morvan - he's the most respected of our Briarhearts - definitely said something about wanting him as a thrall.'

Elandine spat angrily, Elruen stiffened, and I saw Karliah's jaw clench.

'Then why has he been kept alive?' I asked, and there was no keeping the fury from my voice. 'Why hasn't this Morvan simply killed him already?'

The Forsworn squirmed. 'Bait,' he said quietly.

'Bait?' I echoed, baffled. 'You mean, bait for us? What do they want with us?'

'I'm sorry. I don't know for sure. No one tells me anything.' Padraig paused, biting his lip. 'But I think they're hoping to enthrall the rest of you, if they can. You were strong enough to kill at least ten of us. You even slew Caswyn. I… I heard Morvan saying that you would be a bunch of thralls worth having.'

I guessed that Caswyn was the Briarheart I had managed to defeat. 'Well, that explains a lot,' I muttered.

'Now what?' Delvin sounded edgy. 'We know what they want, but what are we going to do about it?'

'It'll be hopeless trying to negotiate with them,' Karliah said quickly. 'If they want us dead, then they're not going to waste their time talking to us.'

'The problem is that they're expecting us to attack,' Elruen pointed out. 'They want us to attack. They're going to be prepared for us if we try to fight them.' He shifted restlessly. 'Karliah, could you take over? My arms are getting stiff.'

The Dunmer obliged, nocking an arrow to her bowstring and aiming it at the Reachman's head.

'So we don't negotiate, and we don't attack,' I concluded. I cast a glance at Padraig, still lying on the grass, and the beginnings of a plan began to form in my mind. 'Which means we'll have to play to our strengths.'

There was a short pause. I clasped my hands together thoughtfully. 'Padraig, what would we have to do to persuade you to help us?'

He looked at me incredulously. 'Me? Help you?'

'Yes,' I replied coolly. 'If we're going to save Thjon, then I've a feeling we're going to be needing your help.'

I waited for him to laugh scornfully, to tell us that he would never help us in a thousand years, that he would never betray his fellow Reachmen. But to my surprise, his response was to ask quietly, 'You're the Thieves Guild, aren't you?'

'Part of it,' I told him shortly.

He drew in a deep breath. 'If I help you, will you let me join you?

Our confusion must have shown in our silence, because he quickly explained. 'My parents died in the Markarth incident. They weren't Forsworn, even though they were Reachmen. They were just ordinary people trying to live their lives. I joined the Forsworn because I hoped I'd be safer with them than if I wasn't with them. But all the others ever talk about is how we're going to make the Nords suffer. How we're going to reclaim what's rightfully ours. How the Reach belongs to the Forsworn.' He sighed. 'I'm not sure I want revenge on the Nords. I'm not certain I even want to go back to Markarth. Too many bad memories. I just want to have a home and a family again. Like I did before.'

He was telling the truth. I could see it in his sorrowful blue-green eyes. We had captured the right Forsworn. At any other time, I might have discussed this with my senior members, but the only of them one here was Elandine, and there was no time to talk this over now. The choice rested with me, and I had to make it quickly.

'All right,' I said softly, hurriedly making my decision. 'I'll make you a deal, Padraig. You help us to free Thjon and escape. In return, when we get away, we'll take you with us. We'll be more than happy to give you a home, if that's what you want.' I sighed. 'All we want is our brother back.'

A small smile flitted over the Reachman's face. 'Thank you,' he said, sounding mightily relieved. 'Can I sit up now?'

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. 'Be my guest.'

Karliah lowered her bow, and Padraig pushed himself up off the ground. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked, a new determination kindling in his eyes.

I sucked in a long breath, glanced at the Forsworn camp, and began to explain my plan.

'The first thing you need to do is return to the redoubt. You should probably take Morvan's staff back to him, and tell no one you've seen us – apart from Thjon. I need you to talk to him. Tell him that we're coming. Tell him that we will save him, no matter what the cost, and he just needs to wait until nightfall.' I was aware of five intense, inquisitive gazes on me as I continued. 'Once you've told him that, I'm going to need you to borrow two sets of suitably Forsworn-style armour.'

Delvin buried his face in his hands. 'Divines in Aetherius, I can see where this is going.'

'It's the only way we'll be able to sneak into the redoubt without being caught the moment someone takes a single look at us,' I pointed out. 'And anyway, I'll be going with you. Elruen and the girls wouldn't be able to make themselves look like Forsworn, being elves, but we should just about manage it.'

Elandine frowned. 'I'm not sure you'll be able to pass for a Breton, Gallus. Your skin's too dark.'

'That's another reason why we're doing this at night,' I pointed out. 'With luck, in the dark, they shouldn't be able to tell. And anyway, I could always wear one of those ridiculous helmets.'

Padraig gave a small grin. 'This plan is insane, but I think it might actually work.'

'I'm glad you think so,' I chuckled. 'After nightfall, Delvin and I will sneak into the camp and set Thjon free. We'll then try to make it out without being seen. If anyone challenges us, Delvin and I are from a nearby camp that was wiped out, and we've come to join this group instead. You met us while you were out looking for Morvan's staff.'

'But if I had, I'd have taken you to Morvan myself,' Padraig protested.

Delvin gave him a withering look. 'It's not as if anyone else is gonna know that you didn't.'

'We can work out the little details later,' I said more loudly, quickly interrupting the two Bretons before the conversation became an argument. 'For now, let's just make certain that the main plan works. Elandine and Karliah, I want you near the camp entrance, but hidden out of sight. If things go wrong and a fight breaks out, you two might be able to provide a few distractions.'

Elandine smirked. 'If by distractions you mean rampaging storm atronachs, I think I can manage that.'

A collective snigger rose from the group. 'I'm sure you'll perform admirably,' I told the Altmer, grinning. 'Once we're out of the redoubt, we'll all make for the tunnel. Elruen, I'm sorry to leave you out of the actual attack, but I'm going to need you by the tunnel entrance.'

The Bosmer nodded, quickly working out my intentions. 'So that I can open it up the moment I see you coming. Fine with me.'

I pressed my hands together. 'Before all this begins, we need to have our horses on the other side of the passage. We'll go straight through, jump on and ride straight back to Riften. Even if the Forsworn are pursuing us, that doesn't change. Any questions?'

They all shook their heads. I stop myself from worrying about what might go wrong. If this did not work, then any one of my friends might be killed. Or worse. The thought of any of them – Thjon, the son of my greatest childhood friend, Elandine, who had stood by me for more years than I cared to count, Delvin, who I would always owe for telling me the truth about my mother's death, Elruen, the nephew of a Guildmaster I had respected and honoured, Karliah, daughter of the woman who had given me a new life, even Padraig, who only minutes before had been a stranger and would soon be a brother – being killed and enthralled by these merciless fiends… it did not bear thinking about. I might well be condemning them to death. But none of them told me that they were afraid, or that my plan was suicidal. They merely nodded, resolution shining in their eyes.

I hesitantly opened my mouth, and though the words came uncertainly at first, they soon began to flow like water freed from ice. 'I am well aware that we might be going to our deaths… that I might be leading you to your deaths. And I'm sure you're aware of it too. I know that some of us may not return from this mission. Maybe none of us will.' I hesitated, swallowing. 'My friends, I think you should know that it honours me beyond measure that you are willing to follow me now. It certainly seems that you trust me; and by the Gods, I hope I am right to believe that you do. But I want to tell each and every one of you now that I have complete and utter faith in you. Elandine, Delvin, Elruen, Karliah –and you too, Padraig, because you are one of us now – you are prepared to follow me into battle, and I will always be grateful to you for that.'

A bird chirped, hidden among the dark boughs of one of the conifers. My friends glanced at each other, and Elandine gave Padraig a small nudge. 'You're going to have to get used to this. Gallus is a stickler for dramatic speeches.'

Quickly suppressed laughter echoed through the pine grove, and the bird took flight, startled. 'Gallus,' Elruen said to me, a look of amused respect on his face, 'I think you must be the only person who could make us this loyal to you and yet still worry that we trust you.'

'We're behind you every step of the way,' Elandine told me firmly. 'And if you're too blind to have already realised that, then it looks like human eyesight is even worse than we thought.'

Karliah nodded seriously. 'Gallus, we would follow you into the depths of Oblivion. You know that.'

I gazed at them, at their smiling faces, at their shining eyes. I felt fueled by my friends, by their faith. And I knew then with absolutely certainty that if we stood together, as one, we would be victorious. The six of us could not be more different – a Dunmer archer and alchemist, an Altmer mage, a Breton assassin-turned-thief, a Bosmer ranger, a nervous young Reachman, all led by an Imperial scholar-warrior-thief. But despite our differences, we were strong. Strong enough to win.

'We can do this,' I said quietly, lifting my gaze to the sky. 'Together.'

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**This chapter was originally going to include the actual rescue, but as said previously, it would have made it far too long. It's too long as it is. So the next one will be quite a bit shorter.**

**You have no idea how attached I've already become to Padraig. I didn't even plan to create him until he was appearing on my page. I hope you guys like him. I guess I'd better add him into my 'favourite characters' poll, even though I should really take that thing down soon…**

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'll see you soon with the next one - although, I do have an interesting idea for a oneshot that I may have to write first, depending on how things turn out... anyway, thanks for reading! :D**


	27. Darkness

**Finally... it's done...**

**I am so, so sorry. My recent oneshot, a broken computer, writer's block and an overload of work combined to make this chapter very, very delayed. I just hopeit might be good enough to make up for it. Fingers crossed. It turned out way longer than it should have been. But at least it's finished...**

**And thanks to Aeon Hawk, who pointed out that Pàdraig's name should have a fada over the a. Shows how much I know about Gaelic.**

**(In response to Darkest Cloud's review: (because I can't PM you) Yeah, I know... I've been trying to stay true to the lore as much as I can, but sometimes I just have to use a little artistic license to make the story go in the direction I want it to, and that's one place where I had to. Don't worry, you're not being nitpicky at all. And *gasp* does this mean Etienne has another fan apart from me?! He probably won't show up in this story – I think he's a bit too young for Gallus to have ever met him, but he did show up in Indigo Nightingale. Thanks for all your earlier reviews, by the way, you've been really encouraging :D)**

**So, thanks everyone for waiting. I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

The extraordinary thing about bravery, in my opinion, is that when it is present within the heart of a mortal, they are never fully aware that it is there.

You see, bravery is not the absence of fear, but having the strength of mind and spirit and soul to be afraid, and yet to combat those fears. Someone who can walk to war with trembling knees and a failing heart, yet who can fight as fiercely as a dragon, is far the braver warrior than one who marches to the battlefield without a trace of fear in his mind. Fearlessness is admirable, but nowhere near as much as courage. Someone who does not fear danger has overcome nothing when they face it. We may tremble at the sight of a roaring bear or a swathe of enemy warriors, but in truth, sometimes the true foe is oneself. Many, many times I have listened to my mind screaming at me as I face down a threat. _Run! _it cries. _Save yourself! Leave your friends and get away, they can look after themselves! Run!_

And it takes every last drop of strength of mind that I have to push away that voice, and stand firm, my sword in my hand, ready to face my enemies. When my common sense betrays me, I have often found that it is best to abandon all reason. Because that is the true meaning of courage. Doing what is right, and doing it again and again, even if to do so terrifies you like nothing else.

Sometimes, I look back on things that I have done in my past, and I think to myself, _I showed great bravery then. _Butthen I frown and think again, and I remember how I felt at that time. I never felt brave. I just felt scared. All I was ever aware of was my own fear.

And so it was that night. My companions and I performed deeds under the cover of that dark sky that many others might think greatly courageous. But I know for a fact that I felt nothing but terror, and I am almost sure that my brothers and sisters in arms felt the same way.

Slowly, infinitely slowly, the clear blue of the midday sky reddened as the sun sunk behind the rugged peaks, deepened into indigo, and slowly faded into ebony black. As a chill breeze whipped away the clouds, the twin moons rose above the treetops, and the stars began to blink into being, one by one. Gradually, colour ceased to exist, leaving a world in black and white. Night had finally fallen. It was almost time.

Huddled upon the cluster of rocks behind the pine trees that hid us, the five of us waited restlessly for Pàdraig to return. As I sat with my back against one of the whispering conifers, sharpening my sword, I saw the others fidgeting in agitation as they waited. Elandine charged up spells in both hands, letting them crackle in her palms before extinguishing them. Karliah and Elruen counted through their arrows, occasionally shooting a few at the tree trunks. Delvin repeatedly stabbed the ground with his dagger, muttering under his breath. I turned my head to the distant glimmer of torchlight that revealed the location of the Forsworn camp. Thjon was there somewhere, bound, afraid and alone. He, too, would be waiting. Waiting for us to save him.

_We will manage this, _I told myself firmly, running the edge of my blade against the rock to test its sharpness. _We will get into the redoubt unseen, we will set Thjon free, and we will escape alive. We will. I know we will._

'Gallus!' Elruen's head jerked up sharply, and he hissed my name urgently. 'Pàdraig's coming back. It looks like he's got your disguises.'

I jumped to my feet and clambered over the boulders, peering through the trees. At first, I saw nothing; then I caught sight of a dim shape advancing towards us, carrying a misshapen bundle. I glanced at the Wood Elf. 'Is it definitely him?'

'It's him all right.' Elruen grinned wryly. 'Trust me, there'd be an arrow through his heart if it wasn't.'

A moment later he was proved correct as a familiar voice echoed through the blackness. 'It's me. I've got the things you told me to bring.'

'Get behind the trees, quickly,' I called, my voice low. 'We can't risk you being seen.'

Pàdraig hurried over the rocks and jumped behind the cover of the pines. We had decided it would be safer for him to come over with the Forsworn armour over after nightfall, to minimise the chances that he would be seen, and to prevent the other Reachmen from wondering why he had vanished. This, of course, had given us even less time to prepare ourselves, but my hopes were still high that we would make it.

'Here's everything we should need.' Pàdraig dropped the ragged fur and hide armour onto the ground as we gathered around him. 'I brought some headdresses as well, to cover your faces. I don't think many people will be awake at this hour, but we can't be too careful.'

Delvin picked up one of the fur tunics and held it up in front of him, eyeing it critically. 'I still ain't sure about this plan.'

'Have you got a better one?' Elandine snapped fiercely. 'The only reason you don't like it is because you have to wear a piece of ridiculous headgear. Get over it and cooperate. This is the only plan we've got.'

Looking taken aback, the Breton quickly obeyed. I pulled on the badly-made armour over my leather tunic. 'I know this is risky, Delvin,' I called to him as I rolled back the sleeves. 'But I can't see any other way for us to get into the redoubt and back without being seen.'

Elruen frowned at Pàdraig. 'You should have brought another set, for Thjon.'

I shook my head. 'I don't think we'll have time to get Thjon kitted out in all of this. Once we've cut him loose, we'll just have to make a run for it. Of course we'll sneak out if we can, but if we have to wait for him to put this getup on, we'll be caught within minutes.'

Karliah, who had been watching through narrowed eyes without speaking for some time, suddenly let out a sharp Dunmeris curse, making us all turn to look at her. '_Nchow!'_

I glanced at her. 'Something wrong?'

The Dunmer gestured to my sword. 'Your weapons. They look nothing like the Forsworn-style ones.'

I cursed mentally as I realised she was completely right. The Reachmen had no true blades, seeing as they had no metal at their disposal, only crude things made from sharpened bone, flint, and the teeth of animals. My sword and Delvin's daggers would stand out instantly, even at a casual glance. 'Gods damn it!' I burst out furiously, enraged at my own incompetence. 'I should have noticed that before.'

Pàdraig ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. 'Actually, it might not make all that much difference. Quite a few of the others have metal weapons – mostly taken from people they killed.' He added the final sentence looking a little edgy. 'I think you'll just about pass for Forsworn, as long as you don't open your mouths.'

'I hope you're right,' I muttered uneasily, shoving the strange antlered headdress down over my face. It was more comfortable than I had expected, but couldn't help but be aware of how difficult it would render stealth. 'Because if you're not, we're dead.'

It was hardly the most inspiring and motivational thing to say at that particular moment in time, but to be honest, I was feeling less than my best. I had set out for the Reach filled with optimism, hoping for nothing more than a few hours with some of my most trusted friends. We would enjoy a simple but hopefully fun training mission, and I would be able to observe the skills of my members and work out what they needed to improve on. Instead, the exercise had been interrupted by a sudden wildfire, we had been attacked by Reachmen, I had been knocked out by a Forsworn Briarheart, Thjon had been captured, and now I was risking my life and the lives of every one of my companions to save him. How had the entire day gone wrong so quickly?

I thought about what might be going on in the Guild right now. Mercer would be worried, I knew that without needing to be told. I had assured him we'd be back by nightfall, and it was well after dark now. I imagined him pacing the Cistern, snapping at anyone who approached him, grinding his teeth as he always did when on edge. He would not know what had happened to us. He might well think we were dead. Perhaps he would send a search party out after us – and then they, too, would be at the mercy of the Forsworn.

I drew in a deep breath, forced myself back into the present, and looked around at my Guild siblings. They looked back, their faces set. 'Does everyone know what their part in the plan is?' I asked them.

They all nodded. 'I wait by the tunnel so I can open in as soon as you come,' Elruen confirmed.

'I hide outside the redoubt with Karliah to provide some distractions if you get spotted,' Elandine added quickly.

Delvin thumped my shoulder. 'And I go with you and Forsworn boy here into the jaws of death to rescue Thjon. Don't you worry yourself, Desidenius. We know what we're doing, and we're not about to let you down.'

I gave him a small smile. 'I'm glad to hear it.' I hesitated for a moment, looking carefully at each one of them. 'Listen, I… I feel like I should be making another motivational speech now, but I'm not going to. I'm just going to say that I'm grateful to each and every one of them, and proud beyond measure of your courage. I don't know what will happen in the next few hours, but if…' I paused, swallowed, and forced myself to continued. 'If I don't see you again, then I want you to know that it's been an honour to call myself your brother, and to serve as your Guildmaster.'

There was a short silence.

'You really are a little ray of sunlight, aren't you?' Elandine said, grinning.

The others laughed, and I did too, knowing that in a few minutes' time I would have nothing to be amused about, and I might as well enjoy it while I could. Trust Elandine to make a sarcastic comment at a time like this. Still, I was glad she had; she had lifted some of the tension.

'None of us are going to die, as long as we keep our heads.' Karliah's calm but firm voice cut through the quiet of the night. 'And as long as we have a healthy amount of luck, of course.'

My heart twisted. Luck. Was Nocturnal, who supplied it, watching over us now? Could she see how badly we needed her? Would she be at our sides in our hour of need?

I blocked out the unnerving thoughts. I could not afford to show any weakness or worry. My Guild siblings were looking up to me, and they were depending on me. I had to stay strong, for their sake.

I sucked in air. 'All right. I think it's time for us to make a move. Remember; keep to the shadows. Be careful. If it looks like your life is in danger, then run like Oblivion and do not stop until you're certain that you're safe. Don't worry about the rest of us. Just run. I'm more concerned that we make it out of this alive than anything else.' I bit my lip. 'Well, I think that's everything. All I can say is… thank you all, for everything. Keep safe. And good luck.'

A cold breeze hissed through the air, and the shady trees bent and groaned. The dead pine needles littering the ground stirred and scudded a few metres with a light whispering sound before falling still again. Together, keeping to the darkness at the base of the cliffs that surrounded the valley, the five of us slipped out from our place of shelter and into the danger zone, leaving Elruen behind. Despite Pàdraig's repeated assuring of me that few of the Forsworn would be awake, and that it was unlikely we would be challenged, I was ill at ease. All it would take would be for one sharp-eyed look out to spot us approaching, and our rescue mission would be over before it had even started.

I glanced around at my companions, and the steely determination in their eyes made my worries lessen instantly. I had faith in them, and they had faith in me. Together, we could achieve the impossible. We just needed to work as one.

With the darkness shrouding us and our footsteps almost silent, we soon found ourselves near the entrance to the redoubt. I stopped, examining the scene before me. 'Karliah and Elandine, take shelter behind those bushes,' I ordered quietly, pointing to them. 'Stay down, and stay hidden. Keep an eye on the camp, and if it looks like we're in trouble, you know what to do.'

The two elf women nodded resolutely. 'Leave it to us, Desidenius,' Elandine told me firmly. 'You just get Thjon out of there.'

I shot them a quick smile before turning to Pàdraig and Delvin. 'All right. It's time for us to go.' I swallowed and nodded to the young Reachman. 'Lead the way, Pàdraig.'

The Forsworn nodded seriously, his eyes narrowed. 'This way. Follow me.'

As we snuck away into the darkness, I heard Karliah calling after us. 'Good luck, Gallus.'

Pàdraig walked ahead of Delvin and I with hasty, nervous strides, on the verge of a run. Tension was practically radiating from him, and I did not blame him in the slightest. 'Pàdraig, I know we need to move as quickly as we can, but you need to slow down,' I murmured to him. 'It'll look more suspicious if you're not walking.'

He dipped his head hurriedly and slowed his pace. 'Sorry,' he whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

'It's all right,' I assured him. 'I'm just as nervous as you are. I don't deny that what we're trying to do is dangerous.'

Pàdraig's eyes darted uneasily from side to side as we walked beneath a gate of bound-together branches and into the redoubt. 'Dangerous is an understatement. I think suicidal is more accurate. But I guess it's the right thing to do.'

As we walked on, I found it hard not to disregard my own advice and break into a run. We were in the heart of the enemy's camp now, and if events did not go to plan, we might never leave. Even the best-laid plots can go awry, and I had a terrible feeling that this might be one of them. My own life I cared little for, but I could not bear the thought of one of the others falling victim to the merciless fiends that surrounded us. Having one of my Guild siblings die would be bad enough, but the knowledge that their body would be resurrected and enslaved was far, far worse. A tremor of anger ran through me. How could anyone have such complete disregard for mortal life, that instead of treating a fallen warrior's body with the respect it deserved, they would bind it with their foul magic and force it to serve their will? It was unjust, disrespectful and utterly wrong. And yet it might happen to me or to any one of my companions.

_Do not think about that, _I snapped at myself. _Think about Thjon. Think about saving him. That's all that's important right now._

'How much further is it?' Delvin called quietly, as we crossed a wooden plank bridge.

'Not far,' Pàdraig called back. 'Just up a few steps.'

We were deep in enemy territory now. As Pàdraig had predicted, most of the Forsworn lay slumbering in their tents. A few leaned against the fencing, watching the shadows for intruders, but though my heart stopped whenever one of them turned towards us, they never gave us more than a quick glance before looking away again. Impossibly, incredibly, it seemed that our madcap scheme was working. At last, the odds were turning in our favour. Nocturnal must have heard my prayer.

I just hoped she would continue to be this merciful.

Pàdraig led us up a few flights of stairs, and we emerged onto a wide wooden platform. I shuddered instantly as I realised how brightly lit it was – there were several oil lanterns hanging around the perimeter, bathing the place in a flickering orange glow. I realised that the Forsworn leaders would have wanted to keep this place illuminated so they would see the moment anyone tried to free Thjon. But we had no choice but to keep going.

'Move quickly,' I muttered. We'll be easily seen here.'

The two Bretons nodded, and we stepped forward into the light. I waited to hear an alarm call, for shouts to arise from the tents, but the only sound was the whistling of the wind and the frightened breathing of myself and my two companions. Again, fortune seemed to be on our side.

I peered ahead, and my heart leaped as I saw Thjon at last, bound to the fence opposite us. His fair hair was matted with dark blood and when he raised his head I saw that there was a vicious cut on his cheek. But he was alive, and otherwise unhurt. And as he saw us, his eyes lit up like a pair of sky-blue stars, and his face split into a smile.

I rushed forwards, Delvin and Pàdraig following behind. 'Thjon!' I hissed. 'Are you all right?'

'I've been better,' the Nord replied, grinning shakily.

I wrenched my dagger from my belt and began frantically sawing through his bonds. 'I'm sorry we took so long,' I said quietly, shooting an apologetic glance at him. 'We had to wait until night, or we wouldn't have made it five paces.'

'It's all right. I understand.' One of the ropes frayed and came apart, and Thjon let out a relieved sigh as he shook one arm free. 'I got your message; I knew you'd come. And even if you hadn't sent him, I'd have known you'd come anyway. You wouldn't just leave me. You're not the type.'

I felt my mouth twitch into a smile as his words ignited a warm glow inside me. 'I'm flattered you think so.'

'It's true, Gallus.' Thjon tugged his leg away from the cords that had held it as Delvin cut cleanly through them. 'You'd never leave any of us to die. You're too good a Guildmaster for that.'

'Too much talkin', not enough escapin',' Delvin growled, slashing through a few more ropes. He inched backwards to reach the bonds around Thjon's ankles, accidentally knocking a small pot over as he did so. Oil spilled from it, quickly soaking into the wooden planks, and the urn fell with a clanging thump. For a few seconds, we all froze, and I felt my heart stop. But no roars of fury told us that the Forsworn had heard the sound, and no movement came from the tents. It seemed we had been lucky again.

'Sorry,' Delvin said sheepishly.

'No harm done,' I muttered – a little more testily than perhaps I should have done, but my nerves had made me a little more jumpy than usual.

Pàdraig cast an anxious glance over his shoulder as he cut through a few more cords. 'Just a few more.'

I grasped the final rope and began furiously hacking at it. Strand by strand, it began to come apart, yielding quickly beneath the razor-sharp ebony of my blade. There was a quiet snapping sound as the final thread snapped. Delvin tugged it away. Thjon let out a soft gasp of relief and stepped free of the fence. 'Thank you,' he whispered hoarsely.

'Don't mention it,' I replied, sheathing my dagger. 'Now, we are getting out of here right now.'

The soft, almost inaudible thump was what alerted me.

Years of experience had taught me to pick up on almost any sound, however slight. A thief must act with lightning speed in any situation, for many times their only warning of danger might be the swish of a door opening, the sound of a footfall, a murmur of voices. Over the time I had spent with the Guild, my senses had become so finely tuned in to the world around me that I was ready to react to even the tiniest noise. Less than a second after the soft thud reached my ears, my mind was placing a name to it. It was the sound of booted feet on wood.

I drew my sword without hesitation and whirled around.

For a moment, Thjon, Pàdraig and Delvin seemed confused – then they, too turned. The hands of the two Bretons flew to their blades, and Thjon, unarmed, clenched his hands into fists, his entire demeanour switching from frightened to furious within a single moment.

Standing facing us was a row of fur-clad figures. Their eyes gleamed from beneath their headdresses as they gazed coolly at us, and every hand gripped a weapon. None of them spoke or moved, but somehow that was the worst of it. They knew that they did not have to stir. We were trapped. They had us exactly where they wanted us. And we all knew it.

A ripple ran through them, as their ranks parted almost noiselessly. A lone figure stalked, cat-like, towards us, his every movement slow and careful, as if he had been planning to make them for years. His feet made almost no noise on the wooden planks as he approached. Behind him, with quicker, limping steps, came the hagraven, her hunched body pale and grotesque. The man was smiling, but it was a cold smile, the smile of a wolf that knows its prey cannot run. I stepped forwards, standing protectively in front of my Guild brothers, my hand clutching my sword so tightly it was almost painful.

The man stopped a few feet in front of me, and I felt my blood run cold in my veins. His skin was far paler than any ordinary Breton's. And a single glance was all it took to tell me why. No heart; merely a hole filled with a briar, bound with leather thongs and a few thin strands of sinew. Revulsion rose up within me. These men were barely worthy to be called mortals.

'Morvan,' Pàdraig whispered, and his voice shook violently.

The Briarheart's eyes travelled over us, drilling into each of us in turn. Pàdraig seemed to shrink like a plant withering in the sun, Delvin's jaw clenched, and a shudder passed through Thjon's body. As his eyes locked with mine, I forced myself to meet them without blinking. They were dark as the pits of Oblivion.

'I must admit, I expected more of the legendary Thieves Guild,' he said softly. Something about the quietness of the words made them sound all the more deadly, and I found it a struggle to suppress a shiver. 'Much as I am pleased to have a new batch of strong thralls, I feel that I should confess my disappointment that you rose to the bait so quickly and easily. Although it must be said that your methods were ingenious. I never suspected you would attempt to come disguised – but then, I never suspected that you would be able to turn one of our own number over to your side.'

The final words were directed at Pàdraig, and the young Reachman inched backwards, raw fear plain and stark on his face.

I felt like I was meant to say something, but no words would come to me. Morvan continued in his low purr. 'It makes little difference. I will still have you, just as I wanted, just as I planned. I have three of you here, and I'm sure a quick search will flush out the others.' His smile widened. 'A strange group, aren't you? An accursed Nord, an Imperial, three elves, and one of our High Rock kinsmen.'

'I ain't no kinsman of yours,' Delvin snarled. 'You don't 'ave a right to call yourselves Bretons.'

Morvan chuckled lightly. 'And that, my friend, is why we call ourselves Reachmen.'

A low murmur of agreement ran through the Forsworn that stood behind him. The Briarheart tipped his head slightly on one side. 'Purely out of interest, which of you was it who slew Caswyn?'

Delvin and Pàdraig glanced uneasily at me. Morvan, seemingly catching the looks, gazed expectantly at me. I met the cold dark eyes and replied firmly, surprised at how confident my voice sounded. 'I killed your fellow Briarheart,' I told him simply. 'And I am not afraid to kill another.'

The ranks of the Forsworn stirred, and a low, threatening growl ran through them. Pàdraig stepped back, but I took a half-pace towards my foes. Strangely, the fear had gone from within me now. I knew that a battle would begin before long, and battles were something that no longer frightened me. I had lived through too many.

The one problem was that we were hopelessly outnumbered.

'Your courage is quite admirable. Your spirit, also. Even if it does border on recklessness.' Morvan twirled his war axe around in his hand. 'This is why I was so eager to capture you all. You will make such valuable thralls.' He began stalking back and forwards in front of us, in the manner of a wolf trying to decide which prey animal to leap upon. 'You, Nord – you may be a member of the race we despise the most, but you are strong. And anyone who could best Caswyn in combat is a most talented warrior. You seem a capable fighter, too,' he added, glancing at Delvin. 'From what I've heard, your High Elf friend is a skilled mage. I'm anxious to get my hands on her, too. As for the others-' He waved a hand dismissively – 'They will most likely be of limited use to us. We will dispose of them quickly and fairly painlessly. I'm sure our hagraven allies would probably be happy to make some use of them on their sacrificial table.'

A cruel laugh ran through the fur-clad warriors, and lurking behind Morvan, I saw the hagraven cackle hold up her claws to the light, cackling softly. Fury began to pound through my blood. What right did this man have to treat us as if we were cattle, animals being led to the slaughter? I would die before I let this happen to my Guild siblings.

I took a step towards Morvan, and as I did so, I felt my feet slip slightly on the wood, still slick and slippery from the oil that Delvin had spilled on it. Instantly, I found myself thinking of Elandine and Karliah, waiting in the darkness to strike the moment they were given a signal. They had not seen the confrontation yet, or they would surely have helped already. But now I found my mind coming up with the perfect way to alert them to the danger. A plan started to take shape within my head.

'We will, regrettably, be forced to kill you. But if it is some comfort, you shall be of some use to the cause of the Forsworn.' Morvan's thin smile widened. 'And we will kill you as quickly as we can.'

I gazed straight into those cold eyes.

'No,' I told him firmly. 'You won't.'

And I lashed out with my blade.

The Briarheart reeled backwards, but the blow did not hit him. I had never intended it to. As I swung my arm, I leaped a short distance into the air. In a single, swift movement, I severed the rope that held one of the hanging oil lanterns in place.

The rope frayed and snapped. I landed on the wet wooden planks and instantly threw myself backwards, ready for what I knew would inevitably happen next. The lamp seemed to hang in space for a moment. And then it fell. Down, and down, and down, until it landed with a crash on the planks. The metal twisted and snapped, and the glass shattered. The flame touched the puddle of oil.

And for the second time that day, blinding light smashed across my vision as fire exploded all around me.

Flames tore through the air, and the cold, dim night erupted with heat and light in a second. I heard Pàdraig cry out in fear and shock, saw Morvan sent flying backwards, and felt my ears ring as the hagraven let out a shrill screech as her feathers burst into flame. The Forsworn yelled and broke ranks, stumbling away from the blazing wood – and suddenly, a gap opened in the rows of Reachmen. A way out.

'Run!' I roared, and together, Delvin, Pàdraig, Thjon and I ran for our lives.

Thjon overtook me as we darted past the hagraven's outstretched claws. Closing his eyes and lowering his head, the heavily-built Nord smashed forward into the lines of the Reachmen, scattering them and knocking several to the ground. Delvin, Pàdraig and I lashed out with our blades, felling three more. I heard Morvan screaming, 'Stop them!' but even as a Forsworn woman stepped into my path, spells crackling in her hands, what seemed at first to be a thin black line shot out of the darkness and thumped into the side of her neck. She swayed for a moment, before crashing awkwardly to the ground, an ebony arrow through her throat.

_Thank you, Karliah, _I thought, blocking an axe that swung towards me as I leaped over the fallen body.

There was little room for manoeuvre on the wooden bridges and walkways, so I focused most of my attention on running rather than fighting. There was only one thought in my mind now: make it to the tunnel. If we could just get out of the redoubt, we were in with a chance. But the Forsworn had bows, only Pàdraig knew the way out of the camp, and Thjon was unarmed. The chances were not good.

At least, they were not good until a large purple vortex materialised some distance to my right, and a storm atronach burst through it with a thunderous roar before hurling itself on the Forsworn. I felt myself grinning as I heard the sounds of lightning bolts hitting their mark, followed by agonised screeches of pain. _And thank you, Elandine._

'Which way?' I roared, ducking a barbed arrow that narrowly missed my head.

Pàdraig's panicked voice rose over the sounds of flying magic and running feet. 'Turn right at the end of this walkway, go down the steps, and across the bridge!'

_Bridge? _I thought with a small smile, and another plan flashed into being.

'Pàdraig, you go on ahead,' I shouted, dropping back to the rear of the group. 'Lead the way. I've got some business to attend to. Don't stop running, whatever you do.'

The Reachman responded with a frantic nod as he raced past Thjon to take the lead. I hung back until Delvin had passed me, checked that Elandine's storm atronach was still between me and my pursuers, and therefore blocking the path of any arrows, and raced after the others, tightening my grip on my sword. I turned right, leaped down the stairs in a single bound, and began to sprint across the bridge. It was a narrow and fragile construction, made of strapped-together logs, bound to posts on either side with thin cord, and the entire thing swayed violently as we crossed.

One by one, my companions reached the other side. First Pàdraig, then Thjon, his arm bleeding from an arrow wound, then Delvin. They kept running as I had ordered them to, but the moment my feet touched solid ground, I spun around and stood at the entrance of the bridge, facing my foes. The storm atronach had fallen, and now there were at least ten arrows pointed at me. But no one fired. I knew that they were waiting for the order.

Morvan broke through them, his pale face red with fury. A sword or maybe an arrow had scored a line across his cheek, and blood was trickling down the side of his mouth, giving him a horribly inhuman appearance. 'I gave you the option to die quickly,' he hissed. 'You could have taken it. _Why didn't you take it?'_

Despite being slightly taken aback by his almost unhinged rage, I glared at him and raised my sword. 'Because I am a Guildmaster,' I told him coldly. 'I have my duty. And I will see it done.'

Morvan's lip curled, and he began to run forwards, onto the bridge. I smiled, for I knew that he now stood between me and the archers. They knew it too, for they dropped their bows and readied their swords and clubs and axes. And I waited. My heart thumped against my ribs, and Morvan's feet thumped on the bridge. And when he was a few feet away from me, I swung my sword downwards. The shining metal sliced through the rope that held the bridge in place within a single instant.

I did not stay to see my enemies fall. I did not want to see it. But I heard their screams, and I closed my eyes and tried to block out the wave of guilt that washed over me. No matter how many lives I took, I would never get used to the feeling that because of me, a mortal had died.

Perhaps some of them would survive the fall to the bottom off the cliff. But many would not. And I knew that their deaths would weigh on my conscience for the rest of my life. But there was no time to dwell on it now. All that mattered, I told myself repeatedly, was getting out of this Gods-forsaken place before we got killed.

As I ran for the exit to the redoubt, I was dimly aware that gradually, the entire structure was going up in flames. It was a combination of my trick with the oil lamp and the volley of firebolt spells that Elandine and the Hagraven were sending flying furiously through the air that had done it. Grimly, I realised that whether we lived or died, we had destroyed this Forsworn camp completely. The damage would be irreparable.

I suddenly realised that my feet were no longer thumping on wooden boards, but on dry grass and soft earth. A grin flickered over my face – we were going to make it. We had escaped the blazing camp, and now all we had to do was cover the last three hundred metres or so to the tunnel entrance. Once we were in, it would be plain sailing; Elruen would open it for us, we would run through and collect our horses, who were waiting on the other side. We would mount was quickly as possible and run for our lives, returning straight to the Guild. The Reachmen did not have horses. They would not be able to follow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Karliah and Elandine emerge from their hiding places and join the mad dash away from the redoubt. Thjon, Delvin and Pàdraig were just ahead of me now. And as I leaped over a pile of rocks, I felt a rush of wind as one of Elruen's red-feathered arrows soared past me. I could not see who he was aiming at, but I heard a low hiss of pain from behind me. It seemed, then, that the Bosmer's target had been wounded but not killed. I gritted my teeth and kept running, even though my lungs were straining and I felt as if I would fall dead if I went one more step –

A sudden gust of air was what alerted me. Without looking, I threw myself to the side, spinning around slightly as I did so. A stone dagger snapped through the air, missing me by millimetres. Despair rose up within me as I saw who had thrown it.

Morvan lowered his arm and drew his blades. Blood flowed freely from a dozen wounds on his body, and as he stepped towards me, he was limping. But he was still alive.

Of course. If any one of the Forsworn was strong enough to survive a fall halfway down a sheer cliff, it would be a Briarheart. Someone who was hardly alive to kill.

'You will suffer for what you have done!' he screamed, saliva flying from his jaws and momentarily gleaming red in the light of the blazing camp. 'I will make you all suffer!'

Something about the insanity of his voice rendered me unable to run. I saw the others faltering, uncertain of whether to fight or continue to flee.

'The Reach belongs to the Forsworn, and the Forsworn belong to me!' Morvan did not seem human any more. There was a madness in his eyes that, despite all my exhaustion, made me want to run and run and never stop. 'And I will make you pay. All of you. You, the Guildmaster, with your oh-so-sharp mind. You, the traitor to our race. You, the son of a people who made me and all my kin outcast.' His gaze blazed into me, Delvin and Thjon in turn. 'And you accursed elves, and you, betrayer of all our people. I would never have thought you would pose a greater threat to us than your foolish parents, Pàdraig.'

I shook my head desperately. 'Don't listen to him. Run. All of you. Fetch Elruen, get through the tunnel, get on the horses and _run_.'

Elandine nodded, turned and raced away. Karliah followed quickly, Delvin and Thjon hurrying after. But Pàdraig stood as if frozen, the fear fading from his face, to be replaced by a look of rage that I had never seen in his eyes before.

I grasped his shoulder and tried to pull him away. 'Pàdraig, come on-'

He shrugged me off without looking at me. 'What did you just say about my parents?' he growled, his voice shaking.

Morvan spat furiously. 'I said that I never suspected you would be a bigger danger than them.'

'Pàdraig,' I hissed, but the young Reachman took a step towards the Briarheart, his face slowly growing red with anger. 'My parents weren't dangerous to anyone. They sold vegetables.' He swallowed. 'You tell me what you mean. Now.'

The Briarheart smiled that cold, thin smile. 'Your parents were Reachmen, boy. But they were never Forsworn. They would have been worthy warriors for our cause – as would you. But when the Nords drove us from our home, they chose to flee rather than fight. Our king was imprisoned, our people driven away into exile, and they would gladly have abandoned our homeland and left us to our fates. I knew that long before the Nords drove us into the wilds. I knew what had to be done.'

'We didn't want any trouble. That was why we never gave our allegiance to Madanach.' Understanding was dawning on Pàdraig's face. 'I only ever joined the Forsworn because I thought that the Nords killed my family. But I was wrong. You lied to me. You knew they wouldn't join you. So you did it. You killed them.'

'Not me personally.' Morvan's eyes gleamed. 'But I gave the order.'

For a single, heart-stopping moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Then Pàdraig let out a roar like an enraged bear and threw himself upon the Briarheart.

There was no warning. None. One moment, the Briarheart and the young man were facing each other, still as statues. The next, Pàdraig was lunging forwards, and his crudely made swords were swinging towards Morvan's throat.

The Briarheart stepped backwards and parried the blow with ease. I stood frozen, desperate to somehow get Pàdraig to safety, but knowing that he would resent any interference. This was a battle for his honour, and for vengeance. He would not want me to save him, even if it meant his death.

I watched, torn, as Pàdraig and Morvan's weapons met again and again. The Briarheart was clearly the better fighter – he was older, more skilled, and his Briar powers gave him a vast advantage. But Pàdraig had the upper hand, too, in his own way, and his weapon was not experience but rage. His fury made him not only strong, but fearless. There was a distant expression in his eyes as he battled his former master. Every hit he took, he soaked up without flinching, and whenever he struck, he aimed for his foe's heart or throat. Morvan's face, which had been covered with a cruel smile, slowly twisted into an enraged grimace as the younger man gradually pushed him back towards the cliff.

Much as I wanted Pàdraig to win the fight alone if he could, I realised as further shouts came from above we could not afford this waste of valuable time. It wouldn't be long before the Forsworn found some way to make it down the cliff, even without the bridge that I had destroyed. I stepped forward, ready to help Pàdraig in any way I could, but he must have seen me. 'Stay back!' he shouted, ducking under one of Morvan's swords and lunging upwards with his own, narrowly missing the Briarheart's neck. 'This is my battle. He is mine.'

I knew then that he would not leave until either he or Morvan was dead. There was no point trying to help. I would simply have to wait and see who emerged victorious. I knew that I would never be able to abandon Pàdraig to his fate and follow the others. Glancing back, I saw the valley empty. Even though it was hard to see from so far away, it seemed that Elandine, Delvin, Thjon, Elruen and Karliah had all made it to the relative safety of the tunnel. I badly wanted to follow – but I could not leave Pàdraig to face Morvan alone, even if he refused to let me help.

I cannot say how long the battle lasted, only that it seemed to be forever. In truth it cannot have been more than a few minutes, but to me, seeing as I could do nothing but stand and watch helplessly from the sidelines, it felt like I spent an eternity watching the Briarheart and my ally struggle for the victory. Pàdraig might not have been able to match Morvan for skill, but unlike the older man, he had the benefit of both youth and a sound body. Morvan was injured from his fall down the cliff. Despite the power that his status as Briarheart gave Morvan, the odds seemed to be even.

As Morvan took a vicious swipe at Pàdraig's head that the young Reachman barely dodged, I heard an ominous splintering, snapping sound from above. My gaze shot upwards, and my heart seemed to freeze. The bridge I had cut free was still bound to the walkway at one side. But the flames had reached it now, and the ropes were beginning to burn through. The bridge was swaying, bumping against the cliff, and I knew instinctively that at any moment the last few bindings would be burned into nothingness, and the blazing bridge would fall.

And it was directly above the combatants.

'Pàdraig!' I roared. 'Get back!'

I knew even as I shouted the words that I was giving a warning to Morvan as well as to Pàdraig, but there was no helping that. A warning given to the enemy was better than no warning at all.

I do not know whether it was because he trusted my judgement or because he, too, had somehow become aware of the danger, but Pàdraig jerked back instantly, out of harm's way. Morvan, on the other hand, looked up sharply – and in that moment, the cords snapped and the bridge came crashing down.

The grim determination in Pàdraig's eyes never vanished as he reeled back still further. I grasped his arm and pulled him to the ground, quickly rolling over and clasping my head with my hands in an attempt to protect myself. I just hoped Pàdraig would follow my lead.

With my face pressed into the earth, I did not see the burning bridge strike Morvan. But I felt the sudden rush of heat, and I heard the splintering crash as it hit the ground. A wordless cry of pure pain tore through the night. I felt a few scorching hot embers strike my back, and mentally thanked each and every one of the Divines that I'd had the foresight to turn my head away. Had any one of those shards of smouldering wood struck me in the face, I would have been badly burned, and had one hit my eye, I would have been blinded for certain.

I waited, breathing hard, until the sounds of crashing wood faded. I heard movement to my right, and knew that Pàdraig had got to his feet. I followed his example – somewhat warily, for I had no idea what I would see when I turned around – and rolled over and pushed myself up.

Pàdraig was standing nearby. His back was to me, and his swords hung loosely in his hands. His gaze was fixed on the heap of flaming wreckage, and the pale, twisted, broken form that lay beneath.

Gingerly, I walked over to him on unsteady legs. 'Pàdraig…'

The Reachman stared numbly ahead. 'I didn't want it to be like this,' he said bitterly. His voice was twisted and choked. 'I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to kill him with my own hand.'

I gently placed a hand on his shoulder. 'It was you. You fought him, and you would have beaten him.'

He turned his head, looking into my eyes. 'You think so?'

'The bridge may have killed him,' I told him softly, 'but you fought him. His death happened because of you. You have avenged your parents. Their spirits may rest in peace now, knowing that their son has slain their murderer.'

Pàdraig swallowed. 'I hope so.'

A hesitant smile spread over the face of my newest Guild brother. For a few moments, he gazed at the smouldering heap of wood and rope. Then he very pointedly turned his back on it and glanced at me. 'I can be a member of your Guild now, can't I?'

And despite everything, I laughed.

'Pàdraig,' I said, smiling, 'You already are.'

His eyes shone like a pair of blue-green stars, and I saw hope and joy spark within them.

Further shouts came from the cliff above, and I glanced up to see the Forsworn dragging a fallen tree towards the gap that blocked their path. My jaw clenched as I realised that if they managed to get it across, they would be able to reach the bottom of the cliff. With their camp aflame, I had a feeling that catching us would be the last thing on their minds, but I wasn't willing to risk it. I glanced at Pàdraig, and the Reachman raised an eyebrow inquisitively. 'Run?'

I gave a short nod. 'Run,' I affirmed, and did so.

Even as my feet pounded against the earth, I could feel a strange emotion building up within me. At first, I could not put a name to it; and then I realised that it was pride. It was a strange thing to be feeling, I readily admitted that to myself, and I frowned as I tried to work out why I could possibly be feeling proud of myself. And then I realised with a small laugh that I was not feeling the pride for myself, but for Pàdraig. And why was there any reason not for me to be proud of him? He was a Guild member now. He was one of my subordinates, and I was just as responsible for him now as I was for Thjon or Elruen or any of the others. He had fought a terrible battle, and he had emerged victorious. And yes, I was proud of him.

I had a feeling that he had a great future ahead of him in the Guild.

Despite my exhaustion, I was fairly certain that I could summon the energy to reach the tunnel. It seemed impossibly far away, but I tried to force the distance from my mind. _Just keep on putting one foot in front of the other, _I told myself firmly. _Just keep going._

With a twinge of guilt, I remembered that Pàdraig had just fought a deadly battle for his life, and was likely to be far more tired than I was. 'Keep going,' I called to him, hoping to encourage him. 'Once we're through the passage, we'll be safe. I'll take you on my horse.'

There was no answer, and his silence made a worrying thought spring to my mind. 'Can you ride?'

Still no answer. That was when I knew something was wrong.

I whirled around, my heart hammering.

Pàdraig stood a little way behind me, his entire body still as stone. His eyes were wide, and his face was suddenly pale. There was something about the way he stood – his mouth slightly open, his hands raised a little, as if he were trying to ward something off – that made me know instantly, with a terrible, sickening certainty, what had happened.

My breath caught in my throat. The young Reachman swayed slightly. And then, without warning, the strength seemed to be wiped from his body, and he was crumpling to the ground.

I ran forwards with a desperate, wordless cry, and was just in time to catch him in my arms. As his weight collapsed against me, I could feel the coldness of the stone knife that protruded from the back of his neck, and the warmness of the blood that was beginning to trickle from the wound. I knew without needing to be told who had thrown the dagger. I could see him in my mind's eye, dragging himself out from under the smouldering wreckage, his hands scrabbling for the weapon he had earlier launched at me and which had missed and landed in the mud. I saw his fingers wrapping around it, saw him draw back his arm and send the knife hurtling through the air.

For a second, I was eight years old again, watching in horror and helplessness as an arrow shot out of nowhere and smacked into the side of Gurak's neck. And even as that vision faded, I was on the streets of Riften, struggling to rise as I watched a guard drive his blade through Sereniel's chest. And the moment I had forced that thought from my mind, I could see Blade smiling up at me, as the light died from those gentle copper eyes…

A little way away, Morvan stared at me for a moment, triumph sparking in those cruel, cold eyes. And then he slumped and lay still on the scorched black earth.

'Gallus,' Pàdraig said softly.

It was a single word, but it was enough for me to know. I had seen so many people die over the years. Far too many. Both friends and enemies. And I had come to recognise a mortal wound, one that could not be healed, one that would take the life of the one who had received it for certain. And I was looking at one now. No one could speak with such a suddenly weak voice and still stand a chance of survival.

I felt a terrible, gut-wrenching pain within me, as if a sabre cat were sinking its claws into my stomach. Pàdraig had trusted me, followed me, fought by my side. And now his life was leaving him. And there was nothing I could do. Guilt unlike anything I had ever felt before gripped my heart in cold, cruel hands and held tight.

'Pàdraig,' I whispered, my entire body trembling. I opened my mouth, ready to say something else – but the words _I'm sorry _died on my lips. What use would they be?

'Gallus.' His voice was weakening by the second, and already it was so faint I could hardly hear. 'Gallus, do you think…'

He broke off the sentence, and drew in a long, shuddering breath. There was fear in his eyes – raw, burning fear. And I thought my heart might break then, because I recognised that fear. I had seen it in the eyes of so many people before. When, as a child, a mortal learns that all people must one day die, they cannot help but disbelieve it. _Not me, _they think, if only subconsciously. _Surely I will be different? Surely I will never die? _And they may go on thinking that for all of their lives, and so when the moment finally comes, they are terrified. Because they simply do not understand how this can be happening.

And I should know.

Pàdraig's every breath was laboured now, but he forced out the words. 'Do you think they'd be proud of me?'

A small, broken sob escaped me. I knew instantly who he meant. 'They'd be proud of you, Pàdraig. I know they would be,' I whispered, blinking back my tears. 'And so am I.'

His face split into a smile. His lips parted, and I think another word might have left him, but if it did, it was too faint for me to hear. He gazed weakly up at me, and I stared back. And then I saw the inevitable change take place. The blue-green eyes were suddenly somehow different. Glassy. Blank. His struggle for air stopped. His body fell still. The sound of his final breath faded away into an endless, heartless silence.

It was so sudden. So quick. Less than a minute had passed between the dagger striking him and his life leaving him.

I stood there, holding his limp form in my arms. It seemed so unreal. How could a man have gone from life to death so quickly? How could the Gods be so cruel, so heartless, as to snatch away the future of a mortal whose whole life was still ahead of him? Pàdraig had just broken free from the Forsworn. He would have been my Guild brother. And now all his hopes, all his dreams, everything he had ever wished for… it was all gone.

It was somehow different to watching Gurak or Blade die. Both had been so much older than me. Both had lived for many, many years. And in truth, neither of them had been afraid. Gurak had accepted his death as if it were a mere annoyance. Blade had been more than ready for it, and indeed, he had been almost happy to die. Had he not always dreamed of a glorious death in battle for what he held dear? But Pàdraig… he was so young. Little more than a boy. For a few moments I struggled to name what made me feel so wretched. And then I realised what it was. Pàdraig was the first friend I had ever watched die who had been younger than me.

I stared desperately at his unmoving body, as if hoping that any moment he might open his eyes again. And when he did not, I turned my gaze upwards, to the jet-black sky. To the scattered clouds. To the bright eyes of the moons.

I had always loved my world. Never before had I ever thought it so cruel.

I drew in a long, deep breath, and gently closed the Reachman's eyes. I had no time to bury him, to put him to rest as he should be. And I would sooner die than allow the Forsworn to get their hands on his body. Divines only knew what they would do with it. No, there was only one thing to do.

My entire body numb, I walked the short distance back to the still-blazing bridge. I kicked Morvan's corpse aside without looking at it, and slowly laid Pàdraig down on top of the burning wreckage. I watched, my eyes seeping angry tears as the flames leaped up to take him.

'Pàdraig,' I whispered. 'No words can even begin to say how sorry I am that I allowed this to happen to you, nor my grief at your passing.' My voice twisted and, squeaking like a child's and I paused, struggling to control it. 'You fought well and bravely. You were a true warrior. This is not good enough for you. You deserve so much more.' I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. 'Go in peace to join the Gods. Brother.'

The redoubt blazed. The fire licked around Pàdraig's body. The night seemed somehow darker.

Some deep-buried knowledge at the back off my mind told me that my friends were waiting for me. That the Forsworn would escape from their collapsing home before long. That I had to run.

It felt like the ultimate betrayal to turn my back on Pàdraig and walk slowly, shakily away, my head hanging low, my heart consumed with grief and guilt.

* * *

The sky was lightening, fading slowly from black to navy to azure. It was not quite yet dawn, but streaks of rose-red light were beginning to streak the horizon. It almost looked, I thought with a shiver, as if someone had dipped the clouds in blood and draped them across the heavens.

We were riding slowly in a long line towards our hope. I had taken the lead, and not only because I felt I should be at the head of my companions. I did not want to speak to them. I did not feel as if I could come up with anything to say. My mind was numb. All I could think of was Pàdraig's eyes, wide with fear, as his life slowly drained from him. The others seemed to have worked out that I was in no mood to talk, and had dropped back behind me. None of them had spoken to me – not since I had snapped viciously at Elruen after he had told me that Pàdraig 'was just a Forsworn.' I knew it was wrong of me to take out my anger on my friends – it was directed at me, after all. I was ashamed of myself. But Pàdraig was not just a Forsworn, and he had never been just a Forsworn. He had been a young man with his entire life to live. He would have been our Guild brother. I knew that Delvin and Elruen did not understand the grief I felt at his death. I suspected that Elandine did, but it was hard to tell, what with her constant hiding of her emotions. I felt that Thjon and Karliah understood, though, and it seemed that they, too grieved. Perhaps it was because they were younger, and so close to Pàdraig in age. Perhaps Thjon felt indebted to the Reachman for making it possible for him to be rescued. But mostly I suspected it was because the Nord and the Dunmer were naturally more sensitive and understanding than the others.

But then, I thought with a small smile, that was only to be expected. Neither Henja nor Dralsi had ever held anyone's beliefs, allegiances or origins against them. It was natural that their son and daughter thought in the same way.

I glanced around at our surroundings. The craggy peaks of the Reach were far behind us now. It was still several hours' journey to Riften. A small sigh escaped me. I was not sure if I had the strength – both physically and mentally – to manage it. All I wanted to do was find my bed in the Cistern and sleep for about a month. I frowned suddenly. Pàdraig's death was weighing on me far more heavily than I would have believed possible. None of the others in the Guild would understand my sorrow, never having met the young Reachman. I doubted even Mercer would. I was not sure if I could face the Flagon tonight. I knew my home; it would be filled with laughter, songs and smiles. I knew instinctively that I would feel separate from it all, as if I did not belong in the same world as the others who could go on with such light hearts. No, I would spend the night in Honeyside. I needed some time to come to terms with all that had happened.

I suddenly became aware that there were eyes upon me, and I quickly glanced up. Karliah was gazing at me with a strange expression – half worried, half sad.

I forced myself to smile. 'All right?'

'No,' she said blandly. 'And neither are you.'

I sighed again, dropping my gaze. 'No. You're right. I'm not.'

The Dark Elf continued to stare at me with that measuring gaze. But somehow I felt that she was not judging me. Merely… trying to work me out.

Well, that was unsurprising. I'd been trying to work myself out for most of my life and I still hadn't come anywhere close to managing it.

'I keep reliving it,' I found myself saying suddenly, and I was dimly aware of the desperation and grief in my voice. 'Seeing him die. It was so quick. So… abrupt. I keep thinking, what could I have done? Was there anything that could have saved him?'

'I know it's not much comfort, but from the way you've told it, I don't think so.' Karliah raised and lowered one shoulder in a half-shrug. 'A knife in the back of the neck isn't usually something that can be recovered from.'

I gave her a sad smile. 'I'm sure you're right. But it doesn't stop me from feeling guilty about it. He died trying to help us, there's no way around it. If he'd never met us, he'd be alive.'

The Dunmer was silent for a long time. 'You feel as if you failed him, don't you?' she said at last.

'Of course. Even if he never was initiated, he became as much my Guild sibling as you are. As Guildmaster, my first duty above everything else is to protect my Guild members. I've been doing it for years, and the will to protect you all has become something of a part of me, if that makes any sense. Knowing that I've failed in that duty is… terrible. It's almost as if Morvan killed a part of me when he killed Pàdraig. It's almost hard to live with myself.' I let out a long, deep breath I only then realised I'd been holding in. 'I've lost too many people, Karliah. More than I care to count. Gurak. Orthwin. Sabinus. Sereniel. Blade. All of the others.' I knew that the names would mean nothing to her, but it hardly mattered. 'And no matter how many people I lose, it never gets any easier.'

Karliah looked at me thoughtfully. 'I've never lost anyone. Not since my father. And I was so young when he died, I barely understood the concept of death.' She shook her head slightly. 'I don't think I can begin to understand what it's like to lose someone like that.'

I shot her an appraising look. One thing I detest is people saying 'I understand,' at times when you lose someone close. Because how can they begin to understand? It takes a great deal of wisdom to be able to admit that you cannot understand.

'I hope you never have to,' I told her grimly.

'Yes. So do I.' She paused, still giving me that inquisitive look. 'Gallus, I've never doubted your skills as our Guildmaster.'

Her words took me by surprised. 'Why do you say that?'

'Because I've a feeling that right now, you do.'

I looked at her intensely. 'Yes. In a way, I do. I always have and I doubt I'll ever stop. But you're right. Any time something bad happens to the Guild, I end up questioning my position. I can't help it; it's just how I think.' I gave her a fleeting smile. 'I daresay I'll be fine after a day or two. Losing a friend is a hard thing to cope with.'

She nodded. 'Of course. But I think you should know that even if you doubt yourself, I never have. I don't think I'll ever have any reason to. And I'm almost certain that the others feel the same way.'

This time, the smile I gave her lasted. 'I'm flattered you think so.'

She gave another small shrug, and did not reply.

It was strange. I had thought that speaking to the others would only make things worse, but in truth, she had made me feel a little better. It was always reassuring to learn that my Guild had faith in me, that they trusted me, that they were willing to follow me. That they were as devoted to me as I was to them.

I looked up at the sky, and to my eyes, it seemed a little brighter than before.

Together, we journeyed on, towards Riften.

* * *

**I have a feeling Pàdraig's death was a little predictable, but *shrugs* even though I really, really didn't want to kill him, it wouldn't have worked if he'd survived. **

**I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but it's already delayed enough, so here it is. I hope it was okay, and if it wasn't, I'm really sorry... anyway, thanks for reading! I would sign off with my customary promise to get the next chapter up soon, but sadly I doubt that will be possible. I have a lot of work to do right now and I'm not sure how much time I'll have to spare for writing. But I'll do my best and hopefully it won't be too long a wait.**

**Thanks to all my readers! Your support is really encouraging.**


	28. Silence

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

One of the very few benefits of having spent twenty five long, tedious years trapped in a temple, with very little to do except for repel the occasional bandit attack, is that it means you have a lot of time to think.

I've always been something of a deep thinker, and over that terrible, agonising time, I had little to do apart from think. I would dwell on my past, and dream of the future. What else was there to do? I would remember my childhood, the days spent in that hidden glade with Henja. I would relive the games we played, the laughter we shared. I dreamed of Marcella, of her warm slate-coloured eyes and her gentle smile and her kindness. I thought of the last few hazy images I hid in my mind of my mother, of that single full memory I had of her, when she showed me the nightingale. Occasionally I even thought of Prosperus, for no matter how much we had disliked each other, he was still my brother, and there had been times when he had shown kindness and kinship to me. I tried not to think of my father, but when I did, I felt no anger, only terrible, terrible sorrow. Now I was older and wiser, I wished things had been different between us. I wished I had been able to stop all that had happened. I wished I had been able to think of him as a real father.

But more often I thought of all that had happened since the day I fled from that house next to the woods. I remembered Azhanri, Do'zaro, Jo'shadro, S'resh and Zhevani, and the safe haven they had offered me. I thought of my first visit to Riften, of how I had learned to survive alone, how to stay hidden and avoid danger. I would think of the day that I had nearly been caught, and of how a complete stranger had stepped in to help me, and how she had introduced herself as Dralsi Indoril and offered me a place in her Guild. I thought of my meeting with Blade and Sereniel and Gurak and Orthwin and all of the others. I remembered how I had grown older, wiser, and more cunning, under their guidance.

And I thought of the night I discovered my destiny, and of the deaths and departures of all of my Guild brothers and sisters who left my side over the years. I thought of how I became the Guild's deputy, then its leader. I dreamed of the day I became a Nightingale, fulfilling my fate at last. I recalled the faces of friends and foes come and gone. I looked back over my entire life and lived through it all again.

But more than anything else… I questioned.

I questioned so many things. Whether Blade and Dralsi and Sereniel had been right that night, and it had truly been my destiny to take the Oath to Nocturnal. Whether there was anything I could have done to prevent the death of Mercer's loyalty to the Guild… to prevent my own death. But the one thing I questioned more than anything else was the bond that I had come to share with my Guild sister, my fellow Nightingale, a beautiful young Dark Elf woman with shining indigo eyes.

Yes. It was her I thought of most, and it is her I still do think of most. She was all that kept me going… the thought that she might still be alive, despite everything, and that maybe, just maybe, the time would eventually come when the two of us could be together again in Evergloam. When everything grew too much for me, when grief threatened to overwhelm me, I would close my eyes and block out the rest of the world and imagine that she was there. And I would weep for all that we had lost, but at the same time, there would be a strange feeling of happiness within me. Because it had become impossible not to be happy when I thought of her, back when I was still living. And even if we had been torn apart, she still gave me strength.

_Keep going, _I remember telling myself, time and time again. _Just keep going. For her sake. Keep going._

And keep going I did. Until finally a new Nightingale came to free me…

Remembering the good times, the joyful times, the wonderful times I shared with her, was enough to keep me sane. It made me hold on to who I was, stopped me from forgetting my purpose and my true identity like all of the other sentinels. If not for my dreams of her, I would surely have lost my mind. Thanks to her, I did not.

Living through that magic time of my life… it was such a blissful escape from the boredom and the pain of the real world. If I just shut out everything else and pretended I was back there, I almost forgot my sorrow.

And all those times I escaped from reality and into the ecstasy of my memories… I would always find myself questioning again. One question I am still not certain I can answer. A question that may not seem important, but one that I had dwelled on for what seemed like an eternity.

When did it all begin?

I always admired her, that is for certain, but when did that change? When did the two of us first start becoming more then Guildmaster and Guild member?

I have thought about it so, so often. Perhaps it isn't a question that can ever be answered. Perhaps it's not meant to be answered. Perhaps Lady Mara prefers to keep such things a mystery. She alone knows the true answer to that question, and it seems that she is keeping it firmly to herself.

But if I were to guess, if I were to look back over all that time we had together and pick out a single moment when it began to change… I think I know which day I would choose.

It is a strange answer to the question, perhaps. For you might think that a day when such a bond begins to be forged would be a happy day, a joyous day, a wonderful day. Well, it was anything but that. It was one of the most painful days of my life. A day that shook me to the core and broke part of my heart forever.

But had it never happened, I am not certain that Karliah and I would ever have come to love each other.

And I have learned over the years that very, very often, out of sorrow, there can be born joy.

* * *

_30__th__ of Evening Star_

_New Life Festival and its revelries are behind us, and the new year is on the way. Every morning now I leave the Cistern and stand in the peace of the graveyard, watching the first light of dawn streaking the clouds with red and gold, listening to the birds singing bravely from the trees and rooftops, feeling the chill breeze whip through my hair. The sounds of the waking city echo in my ears as the market traders bring out their wares, and the guards grumble quietly as they begin their shifts. Over on the docks, bells ring, wind billows in the white sails of the boats, and crew members shout and cheer as they pull in their anchors, ready to take to the water. I listen and watch as the world awakens from its slumber and sets itself in motion, and I try to feel the first signs of the approaching spring. Does the air seem a little warmer, or is it just wishful thinking? Is the morning coming sooner every day, or is it merely my imagination?_

_I love winter. I love the way the snow turns the entire world white, and how deep and dark and silent the nights are. The city seems magic and enchanted when the frost lines the walls and streets, and the canal is covered by a thin film of ice. It's wonderful to watch Tonilia and the other children of the city run laughing through the streets, hurling snowballs in every direction, and it's even more wonderful to occasionally forget my usual image of the dignified and responsible Guildmaster, and join in. But when the snow melts and the water runs free again, and the woods become filled with flowers that poke their heads up through the roots of the trees, and the meadows become covered in yellows and whites and greens of every imaginable shade, there is an irresistible feeling of joy and freshness and life in the air. I love every season – summer for its warmth and calm, autumn for its colours, and winter for its silence and stillness, but if I had to choose a favourite, I think I would have to choose spring. I just adore the vividness of the colours, and how bright and new everything seems._

_Perhaps that is why I was so irritated to find that when I went outside this morning, it was still snowing. True, it is still Evening Star, and despite my best wishes spring is still far away, but I feel as if there should be _some _change by now. All I want is for the snow to melt and for the season to start showing signs of changing. Is that too much to ask? It's all right for the Nords, but as an Imperial, I'm not as resistant to the cold as some, and I'm getting a little tired of seeing trees with bare branches and woods of white instead of green or gold. I keep waiting to feel the warmth of the coming season, to see the shoots of plants pushing their way up through the snow, to see buds beginning to form on the dull brown branches. But for now, everything is whiteness and stillness and quiet._

_Well, when I say that, I mean that the country of Skyrim is still and quiet. It's hard to say that life in the Guild is ever quiet, because it's not. Jobs are pouring in thick and fast from every direction, and it's been quite hard for Mercer and I to organise our members out to see to them all. But we're managing it, and the gold is flowing nicely, just like always. And quite a bit of that has come from our newest member. It was a fortunate day for us when Karliah found Brynjolf in the marketplace. That Nord is quick in every way – with his eyes, his hands and his mind. And that, of course, makes him a perfect thief. I wasn't sure at first about giving him to Karliah to train, since the two of them are so different, but there's no denying that it's paid off. She's one of the best at stealth we have, and her talents are definitely beginning to show in Bryn. They're in Dawnstar right now, I think, so that she can assess his skills in a place where thieves are treated with a lot less complacency. They should be on their way back before long, and a good thing too. I know that I wouldn't want to be out in this weather – it's so cold that even Thjon commented earlier that it was 'a little nippy.' Still, Brynjolf's a Nord, and Karliah's more than used to holding her own in the wilderness. They'll be fine._

_As for me, I'm about to head out on a mission of my own. The fisheries owner has upset the Black-Briars in some way, and our most faithful clients have asked us to make them see the error of their ways in time-honoured fashion. It'll be a difficult job, since the fishery is well guarded. It's a three-man task – one to stand guard, two to break in and clean the place of valuables. I think I'll take Ahsla, and Mercer too. They've not had much to do recently, and I don't want them to become restless or lazy. Not, of course, that I would ever accuse either of them of becoming lazy. Mercer is many things – such as impatient, grouchy and snappish – but lazy he is not._

_I have been avoiding saying this, but… I suppose if I cannot record such worries in my journal, I am only lying to myself by pretending they do not exist. The truth us, I have a strange feeling about today. As if something is about to happen, something that will change things. I can't say in what way it will change my life, I just feel as if it will. It is probably my imagination, but then again, it may not be. What if Nocturnal is trying to tell me something? I am not exactly afraid, but I do feel apprehensive. But what danger can there be from a break in on a fish warehouse?_

_Well, there's nothing to be gained from worrying. All it does is create a headache and a loss of time. I had better go and prepare for our mission._

_But still… I wonder…_

* * *

Mercer was in a high bad temper.

'A fishery,' he growled, as we ploughed our way through the freezing, snowbound streets. 'Gallus, you're a great Guildmaster, but sometimes I find it hard to fathom your reasoning.'

Ahsla gave me an amused glance. 'And why's that, Mercer?' I called over my shoulder.

The Breton scowled, kicking snow in my direction. 'It's the middle of Evening Star, and the dead of night. And you decide it would be a good idea for us to go outside on a mission. And it's not even an exciting one. What are we breaking into? A fishery. How many valuables do you expect us to be able to find in a fishery, Desidenius?'

I rolled my eyes. 'For your information, Mister Frey, I didn't decide it would be a good idea. You can thank the Black-Briars for that. They want the people who run the fishery to learn what happens if you oppose their meadery, and it's not my place to argue with them. When the Black-Briars do well, the Guild benefits. Therefore, we do what they ask us to.'

'But in the middle of the night? When it's snowing?' Mercer let out a scornful snort. 'Thanks to you, I can no longer feel my fingers.'

'I'd have thought that you'd have nothing to complain about,' Ahsla told him lightly. 'Your people come from High Rock, after all, and that is far colder than Cyrodiil or Hammerfell. I'm a Redguard, my kind come from the desert. Do you hear me complaining?'

Mercer grunted. 'Well, I've hardly ever heard you complain about anything.'

'Maybe you could take a leaf or two out of her book, then,' I suggested, giving him a small nudge. 'I've never met anyone quicker to grumble than you, Mercer. I expect if it were the middle of Mid Year you'd complain that it was too hot. And if it was Rain's Hand, you'd say it was too wet. There's no winning, you know, not if you've made up your mind to be dissatisfied with life no matter what the situation.'

'Who said I'm dissatisfied with life? My life is perfectly fine. I just have a low pain threshold.'

Ahsla let out a burst of laughter. 'A low pain threshold?' she repeated incredulously. 'What in the name of Oblivion is that supposed to mean? You can fight off a pack of wolves without turning a hair, I've seen you do it. How can you possibly say you have a low pain threshold?'

'He means he doesn't like any sort of discomfort,' I told her dryly. 'Which is another way of saying that he'll complain about anything as long as he can find a reason for it.'

We had arrived at the door to the Fishery. It was time to set aside any more light-hearted joking, and return to the mindset of a thief. I cast a quick glance around, checking for any guards or dock workers, but the street was empty. It wouldn't remain that way for long, though. If we lingered in this place too long, we risked being seen and apprehended. Of course, the Guild's influence meant that nothing bad would come of it, but it would be an inconvenience we could do without.

'All right. Time to get down to business.' I pulled a lockpick from my pocket and tossed it to Mercer. 'Mercer, you start working on that lock. Ahsla, I want you to stay out here. Keep an eye out for any guards or citizens, and if anyone tries to enter the fishery while we're inside, distract them in any way possible. You know what to do.'

The Redguard woman nodded. 'Don't worry. I'll make sure no one comes inside.'

'Good. Once we're in, lock the door after us. That'll slow down anyone who tries to get in.'

Mercer eased the lockpick into position and his eyes narrowed with concentration as he slowly began to turn the lock. 'This is one of the weakest I've ever had to pick,' he muttered derisively. 'Guess they don't think there's anything worth stealing inside a fish farm. Which only goes to prove my point that this is a complete waste of time.'

'Look, Mercer, I agree with you. I'm not expecting to fall over any piles of gold in there,' I told him testily. 'But the fact is, we've been given a mission and now we need to carry it out. Just as the Guild answers to me, so I answer to the Black-Briars. They tell me to break into a fishery, I need to break into a fishery. I ask you to pick a lock, you need to pick a lock. So please will you stop grouching about it and just do it?'

I seldom snapped out orders to any of my subordinates in the Guild. In fact, I hated even referring to them as my subordinates. It felt somehow wrong to make them obey me like that. And to give orders to Mercer, of all people, was almost impossible for me. The final sentence became more of a plea than a command even as I said it.

'All right, all right, don't get your tunic in a twist,' the Breton growled, and I thanked the Divines that my friend was so thick-skinned. 'I'm nearly done.'

He gave the pick a sudden sharp turn, and the lock clicked. I gave the door a small push, and it swung a little way open, sending a small beam of light dancing across the floor and into the darkness beyond. Dust poured through the pale beam.

'Come on, I murmured, and, giving a small nod to Ahsla, slipped inside. Mercer crept quickly after me, his steps swift and silent. 'So, what exactly are we looking for?' he muttered, pushing the door shut behind us.

'Anything valuable,' I shrugged. 'If all else fails, we can always just destroy some of their stock. The Black-Briars are never picky about exactly how we leave their enemies a message, just so long as we get the job done.'

The Breton gave a short dip of his head. 'All right, then. I'll search this half, you can do that side.'

I raised my eyebrows slightly, and he looked faintly embarrassed – a rare thing for Mercer. 'I mean, if that's all right with you.'

I chuckled. 'I've no problems with you making suggestions, Mercer. Anyway, you might well end up leading the Guild, so you might as well practice your order-giving on me.'

He gave me one of his sly grins. 'You be careful. I might just have to hold you to that.'

'You wouldn't dare,' I goaded him, biting back a laugh.

'Try me!'

I turned in a circle. It was hard to see anything in the gloom, for the only light was the weak shafts of moonlight that shone through the grimy windows, reflecting off the murky water of the salmon hatchery in the centre of the room. 'Well, down to work,' I murmured, leaning against the railing and peering into the water. 'As you keep saying, there won't be many valuables inside a place like this, so just hunt around and do whatever you feel like doing to get the job done. Feel free to take anything you take a fancy to, overturn barrels, scribble in the business ledger…' I shrugged. 'Throw fish all over the place if you feel like it.'

Mercer grinned. 'Sounds like my kind of mission. Maybe this won't be so dull after all.'

He marched over to a pile of large barrels standing stacked against the wall. 'I might have to use a trick I learned from an Argonian friend of mine when I was a kid,' he said musingly, opening one of them and throwing a smaller crate of fish inside. It landed with a loud bang, and I winced. 'What you do, is you hide all the stuff in the barrels and boxes. Then when they come back in the morning, they think all their things have been stolen, when in actual fact they're right there. They just don't know it.'

This time I did laugh, and quickly sent a silent prayer to the Divines that the warehouse was deserted. 'I have to admit, that is rather ingenious.'

'Well, the Argonian said it was an old trick passed down through his family. One of his ancestors thought it up about two hundred years ago,' Mercer said with a shrug, throwing another box into the large barrel. 'I've used it from time to time since I joined the Guild.'

'And you never told me about it,' I said indignantly, joining him in emptying the fishery's wares into their own containers. 'I think it's an extremely effective way of showing our rivals what the Guild could do if it really tried.'

'My thoughts exactly,' Mercer agreed, holding up a bottle of mead, looking longingly at it for a moment, then tossing it with a wistful sigh into the barrel. A satisfying smash echoed through the warehouse. 'You know, I'd give a lot to see the faces of the fishery owners when they come in here tomorrow.'

I grinned. 'Me too. I might even find an excuse to slip in here, if I can stop it from looking too suspicious.'

Mercer sniggered softly. 'I love this job sometimes. We're probably all gonna die young, but it's worth it for the laughs.'

'You never said a truer word,' I told him. 'Better a short and happy life than a long and miserable one. Mind you, if I do get a long and happy life, I won't be complaining.'

'Who says you won't?' Mercer asked, shrugging. 'Don't forget, we're more likely to have longer lives than ordinary thieves. I mean, isn't getting extra luck the whole point of being a-'

_Nightingale._

I froze rigid. The jug that Mercer had been holding slipped through his fingers, fell to the floor, and shattered with a crash on the wooden planks. And yet I hardly registered the noise. Every sound seemed to dim and fade, from the whispering of the water to the faint whistling of the wind. Even my own breathing could barely be heard.

'Did you-?' I breathed, my voice hoarse.

Mercer dipped his head, a grim expression on his face. 'Oh, I heard it all right.'

_I call upon you, Nightingale._

I felt my hand drop subconsciously to my waist, my fingers curling around the hilt of my sword. A swift glance at Mercer told me that he had done the same.

'The Sepulchre,' I whispered. 'We have to go.'

'Ahsla locked the door after us.' Mercer's jaw clenched. 'It'll take too long to pick it.'

'Even if we could spare the time, we can't. She'll want to know where we're going.' I looked at the door, and then at the gently shimmering water in the centre of the room, and made a decision. 'There's only one way out.'

Mercer let out a groan. 'Please tell me you're not going to suggest what I think you're going to.'

'That would generally depend on what you think I'm going to suggest,' I told him lightly, but despite my feigned casualness, I could feel panic building up within me.

'Gallus, it's the middle of winter. If we go in the water, we will very likely end up frozen to death.'

I whirled on him, my fear fraying my temper. 'And if we don't, the Skeleton Key could end up stolen, and will definitely end up dead.'

The Breton scowled, but offered no further arguments. I reached into my pockets, checking to make sure I wasn't carrying anything that might be damaged by water, and breathed a small sigh of relief as my fingers brushed a potion bottle. Karliah had brewed plenty of cold resistance potions for us over the winter, and though my pride usually kept me from using any, I knew that if there was ever a time to swallow that pride, it was now. I uncorked the potion, tipped it down my throat and flung the bottle aside, before grabbing hold of the wooden railing and beginning to haul myself over it. I balanced, cat-like, on the thin structure for a few moments, poised and ready. Then I leaped over the edge and down towards the dim lake, wondering if this was how a fish hawk felt as it knifed towards the surface of a river, with the wind seeding past it and the water rushing up to meet it.

My dive carried me smoothly into the water, and the sudden punch of the cold was so hard and sharp that I almost cried out. Fish darted away from me in all directions as I rose up through the water and surfaced with a gasp. 'Be careful,' I called up to Mercer, my voice shaking. 'It's cold.'

He snorted. 'I told you so,' he snapped, and dived after me.

Nocturnal's urgent summons were echoing in my mind and tugging at my body with invisible hands. I tried to block it out and focus on the real world, on what I had to do. Sucking in air, I forced myself beneath the freezing water once again. Ignoring the silver streaks and trails of bubbles that the panicked fish left in their wake, I pulled myself forwards through the gloom, my gaze fixed on the thin netting that cut the fish hatchery off from the rest of the lake. My hands, trembling slightly and already numb despite my thick leather gloves, wrenched my dagger from my belt. A quick flick of my wrist was all it took, and the shimmering dark ebony had sliced through the cords, making them fray, snap, and drift apart. I dimly realised that if all the salmon escaped it would temporarily cripple the fishery, and therefore fully complete our mission, but I paid little attention the thought. Already I was hungry for air, but there was no time to return to the surface. I closed my eyes and floundered blindly through the water for as long as I could bear before glancing up. I had swum beneath the floor of the fishery and had emerged into the open lake. I let the water lift me up to the surface, and let out a gasp of relief as my head broke through the water.

Mercer appeared beside me a moment later with a deep scowl on his face. 'One of these days, I'm going to murder you. You always get me into this kind of mess,' he muttered.

I ignored this comment, looking back at the quay. 'I just hope Ahsla didn't notice us leaving.'

'If she did, it can't be helped. Now let's get the Oblivion onto dry land again before we both turn into human icicles.'

Nocturnal's voice rang out in my head again. _The Key is in danger, and you must protect it!_

We kicked out for the bank. Blade had taught me many things in the time I had been his apprentice, and though naturally most of the emphasis had been on either stealing or swordfighting, swimming had also come into my training, if only very slightly. 'You never know when you'll need to use the water to make an escape from a tricky situation,' the Argonian had told me firmly, when I had protested against the seemingly pointless activity of splashing about in the icy lake when I could have been practising my thieving skills. 'A thief must be prepared for any situation.' Of course, being an Argonian, Blade had been a thousand times stronger and more graceful in the water than I could ever hope to be, but he had taught me the basics, and I was pleased to find that I remembered them. I was not that strong a swimmer, never had been, and in all likelihood never would be, but at least I could stay afloat and move with some urgency, and that was what mattered.

I felt solid ground beneath my feet and pulled myself up onto the bank. Mercer had already reached the shore and was shaking water from his hair in the way that a dog shakes its pelt after being caught in a rainstorm. 'Let's get the horses,' I told him, blinking as a few flakes of snow blew into my eyes. 'The sooner we get on the road, the better.'

_I summon you to defend my temple, Nightingale…_

Within a few minutes we were galloping at full speed towards Nightingale Hall, wind whipping into our faces and the repeated calls of the Dark Lady hissing insistently in our minds. The horses pounded along the path, their hooves sending clouds of snow spraying through the air. Yet not matter how fast they ran, it seemed to me that it could not be fast enough. That is how it is for the Nightingale summoned by his or her mistress – all that matters to them is reaching the Hall and fulfilling their Oath. After all, that pledge is one sealed with your soul, and there is no breaking it. It was all I could think about, and I knew that it was all that Mercer would be able to think about too. And somewhere, maybe on the road from Shor's Stone to Riften, or already within the Hall, it would be the one and only thought in Dralsi's mind. A sudden, all-too-familiar feeling of rage began to burn inside me. Whoever these people were who had dared to invade the temple of our Order and attempt to steal the treasure of our Lady, they would soon feel our wrath, and rue the day they chose to challenge the Nightingales!

The shadowy shape of the monolith that marked the entrance to the Hall loomed up out of the dark and the snow. I leaped from Ebony's back and raced towards the entrance, not bothering to tether her. There was no time. What was more, I knew she would not abandon me, and anyway, it was safer for her. If she were to be attacked, she would be able to escape. I flung open the door to the Hall and raced inside.

Two scraping swishes echoed through the dim passageway as Mercer and I drew our swords. The two blades, silver and golden, flashed menacingly as we advanced towards the central chamber. Although we moved carefully at first, all caution was forgotten as a sudden splintering sound that I recognised ripped through the air; the noise of an ice spike missing its target and shattering against a wall. It was followed by the twang of a bowstring, a cry, and a thud.

'Dralsi,' I burst out, and broke into a full-out sprint, my feet flying over the stone floor, with Mercer hard on my heels. Although it took only a few frenzied seconds, it seemed like an age before we finally emerged into the main chamber, ready for the battle.

Dralsi was indeed already there, standing in the doorway that led to the room that contained the armour stones and the portal to the Sepulchre. She was already clad in her Nightingale armour, and to my horror, it was streaked with blood. My heart clenched, before I realised that she did not seem to be injured. The blood must belong to one of her attackers - men and women in hooded black robes, magic crackling in their hands. A cult of mages or necromancers of some sort, I thought grimly. Three of them already lay dead on the ground - two with arrows embedded deeply in their flesh, one with Dralsi's dagger buried up to the hilt in what was left of his throat. The others were advancing slowly and cautiously on the Dunmer woman, in the way that a cat slowly prowls closer to a mouse before it pounces.

Mercer whipped his dagger from his belt, drew back his arm, and hurled the blades towards the group of black-blad figures with deadly accuracy. It spun through the air and hit one - who had just been about to loose a lightning bolt at Dralsi - in the back of the neck, sinking deeply into his flesh. For a terrible moment, I was reminded of Padraig, of how he had died. Then the man was slumping to the floor, blood beginning to stain his robes, first a trickle, then a flow.

There was a moment of hush as the necromancers stared at Dralsi, and at their fallen comrade, slowly taking in the fact that she could not have killed him, for her arrow was still nocked to her bowstring, and in any case, it was a knife that pierced the man's neck. Then the realisation that they were under attack from behind struck them, and they whirled around. It was a deadly mistake to make. Dralsi let her arrow fly, and a Dark Elf man cried out, twisted in mid-stride, and collapsed to lie limply on the ground, his breath coming in hoarse, pained gasps. Turning his back on Dralsi Indoril had proved his downfall.

The remainder of the group froze for a moment, suddenly afraid. I had faced enough foes in my time to understand exactly what was going through their heads. They had been prepared to take on a lone Dunmer woman, even though she had been swift and deadly enough to take down three of them before they could so much as injure her. After all, they outnumbered her. She could fight as hard as she liked, but eventually their superior numbers would give them the victory. But now the tables had been turned. Two more warriors had appeared out of nowhere, and though the mages still outnumbered their opponents, they were now trapped. Mercer and I stood before them, Dralsi behind them. Whichever way they turned, they would be explosing their backs to the enemy.

The necromancers hesitated, clearly uncertain. But Mercer, Dralsi and I did not. I raced towards them and swung my sword, aiming for a Breton man who had taken a few steps towards me, ready to face me. I could have quickly killed the Argonian man next to him, who was still facing Dralsi, but I could not bring myself to stab him in the back. Mercer, however, seemed to have no such scruples, and swiftly put paid to a Wood Elf who had been to late to turn around. The Breton raised his arm as I brought down my blade, and the air in front of me seemed to warp and solidify, gaining a bluish tint. _A ward, _I thought angrily, as my blow deflected off the magical barrier. I should have been prepared for that - almost all mages fought using wards!

I drew back and struck low, sweeping my sword beneath the ward. The tip sliced across the Breton's legs, ripping the hem of his robes and creating two dead straight lines of scarlet against his pale skin. He cired out and reeled backwards, before gritting his teeth and lunging in, dropping his ward and launching fire from his palm. Blade had taught me how to fight against a magic user, and now I used that knowledge. The closer to him I was, the safer I was, for it was harder for him to aim his spells without hitting one of his comrades. I ducked and weaved, never allowing myself near enough for him to land a proper blow, while all the time slicing at his dark robes, slowly tearing the bottom to shreds. All I had to do was wait for the inevitable to happen, as indeed it did only a few moments later. The Breton stepped towards me, tripped on the shredded hem of his garment, and staggered. For a single instant, he was knocked off balance, and his guard was down. And that was all it took for me to lash out, my blade singing as it cut through the air. The whistling changed to a dull thud as it struck the man's neck, and I closed my eyes as I felt the sickening sensation of my weapon slicing through bone and sinew. The necromancer was dead in a second, his neck severed, his head struck from his body.

I quickly whirled around. I had become drawn in to my own fight, and I had not noticed what was going on around me. Dralsi had managed to advance a few steps, pushing the mages away from the armoury. Three more of the mages lay still on the ground, felled by either Mercer or Dralsi or both. Mercer was locked in combat with a Nord now, whose face was lined with fury and whose eyes burned with hatred. There was no sign of the Argonian I had noticed earlier - perhaps his nerve had failed him and he had fled. There were maybe six or seven of them remaining - a small enough amount for us to defeat with a bit of luck, but still enough to put up a good fight. I gritted my teeth. Mercer, Dralsi and I would have to use all of our cunning and talent if we were going to make it through this battle.

A lightning bolt glanced off my arm, and I let out an involuntary cry of anguish. The though black leather of my armour deflected the worst of the damage, but I could feel the heat searing my skin. I was just lucky it was not my sword arm. Perhaps Nocturnal had been watching, and had changed its path in order to preserve my fighting skills.

A rush of air came from behind me, and I ducked instincitvely, knowing better than to turn and see what had caused it. A ball of fire swept over my head, missing me by inches and singeing a few strands of my hair, smashed into the wall and exploded with a roar and a plume of flame. I spun around, narrowly missing a second fireball, and lunged in the direction of its firer, hidden from view by the blue-white ward that he or she had hastily conjured in an attempt to defend themself from my blow. This time, though, there was enough force behind my strike for me to break through the ward, shattering it into pieces of dazzling energy that burned brighter than stars before dulling and dissapearing. My sword struck home, sinking into the mage's chest. I waited for the body to go limp, as they always did, as I knew it would, as it did within a few seconds. I withdrew my blade, but even as I did so I felt a bitter pang of sorrow and guilt inside me. How many lives had I taken over my time on Nirn? How many more would I take before the end? And what gave me the right to take them? Why should I be the one to send their souls to Aetherius?

An ice spike narrowly missed my head, and I forced myself to run forwards to meet its firer. _This isn't the time for philosophy, Gallus, _I reminded myself. _You have a Key to protect and an Oath to fulfil._

The spear of ice I had dodged exploded on the stone wall above me, sending freezing, blue-white shards scattering in every direction. I threw my arms up in front of my face, but despite my efforts one of them sliced across my eyebrow. A small, agonised gasp escaped me, and I felt warm, wet blood seep down my face. Blocking out the stinging pain as best as I could, I ducked under another fire spell and sent a blow towards my attacker's stomach that he only just managed to avoid. I had been even more lucky this time - had the ice shard struck a tiny bit lower, I could have lost my eye. I risked a glance back at the entrace to the armoury, but it was blocked by Mercer, who was standing on the top step, battling three at once. If we were to fall back any further, we would reach the armour stones, but we would also allow the intruders to get to the portal. We could not afford it. Mercer and I would have to fight on in our Guild armour, despite the fact that our Nightingale attire would offer us far better protection.

I finally managed to break through the defences of the Redguard woman I was fighting, slicing open her throat in a single, clean swipe. As she fell, I found myself able to catch a breath and survey the rest of the battle. Mercer had slain one of his attackers, and Dralsi had triumped over her own and was racing to join him. _Only two left, _I thought with satisfaction, and sprinted towards the steps.

'So, you heard about this place too? You decided to claim what it holds for yourself?' It was another Dunmer, his scarlet eyes flashing as he parried a blow from Mercer with a ward in one hand and sent a blazing burst of lightning towards Dralsi with the other. 'You won't stop us from claiming the treasure of this place.'

'Not exactly,' I gasped, shaking my head in an attempt to stop the trickle of blood was was insistently seeping into my eye. 'We're here to stop you, yes, but not because we want to take what the Hall contains.'

The elf spat angrily as Mercer's sword ripped open a gash in his robes. 'What is this place to you?' growled the other remaining necromancer, a Nord taller and bulkier than any other I had met, even Thjon. 'Why do you care what happens to its treasures, if you do not want them for yourselves?'

'This place is our lives, our honour, and our duty, _n'wah,' _Dralsi told him in a low hiss, spitting out the Dunmeris curse. 'And as for the treasures, all we want with them is for them to be protected.'

Mercer's eyes flashed. 'Especially from people like you,' he snarled, and swung his sword almost casually. I did not see it hit its target, but the Nord howled in agony and staggered backwards, clutching his chest. Dralsi took the oppurtunity to grip her bow in both hands and bring the unyielding ebony weapon down on his head. There was a satisfying thunk as it smashed into his skull. The Nord crumpled, to lie still in his own blood as it licked at the stone floor.

Now only the Dunmer remained, and together the three of us slowly pushed him back towards the bridge, away from the armoury, and away from the portal that he had come to the Hall seeking. I saw the anger and desperation on his face as we drove him back, further and further, over the bridge, across the floor. But I knew that we could not let him escape, or he might well one day return, this time with even more people on his side. He had to die. We could not force him to retreat forever, nor could we allow him to escape the hall. His life had to end here, now.

'Why bother even putting up a fight?' Mercer sneered at him, as the elf continued to back away, keeping his ward up between us. 'You're outnumbered. You might as well give up while you still can.'

'Don't think you can persuade me to surrender to you, human,' the Dunmer snapped. 'I know what is at stake here. I am not going until I have what I came here for.'

Dralsi, who had retrieved her dagger from the body it had been embedded in, made a swipe at his neck that very nearly penetrated the ward. 'And we shall never allow you to have it,' she replied fiercely. 'We have sworn to defend Nocturnal's secrets until our final breaths.'

The necromancer's mouth curved into a thin, snakelike smile. 'That,' he said softly, 'can be arranged. Very easily.' His eyes darted past us, focusing on something over my shoulder. '_Now!' _he roared, and I whirled around –

- Just in time to see the Argonian that had vanished earlier lunging towards me, his sword blade flashing like a streak of silver flame.

What happened next was so fast, so sudden and so panicked that I could not make any sense of it. I was aware of the rush of air as the blade sliced towards me, I felt my heart freeze and my entire body stiffen with shock as I realised that there was no avoiding the weapon, and for a single instant I saw the fierce, cruel delight in the Argonian's acid-yellow eyes. And then everything became blurred, happening too quickly to be clear. A voice cried, 'No!' and a deeper voice shouted, 'Gallus!' and something suddenly hurled itself in front of me, something large and dark. And then I was staggering backwards as the something collapsed against me, with a terrible agonised scream that tore at my heart –

And then suddenly there was a body lying limply in my arms –

And the Argonian was pulling his blade out of it with a low, triumphant hiss –

And Mercer let out a roar and struck, and the Dark Elf man cried out and fell –

But Dralsi's breath was torn from her in ragged, hoarse gasps, and her crimson eyes were wide with shock, and a dark, sticky liquid the same colour as those eyes was beginning to trickle from where the sword had pierced her armour and flow down her chest.

I became aware of a strange sound, as if wind were rushing through my ears at high speed, blowing through my brain and blocking out all other noises. The world seemed to shrink to the size of the chamber, and I stared dumbly at the wound that had been torn in the elf woman's chest without seeing it. Because it could not exist. I knew that it could not. This could not be happening, not to Dralsi. This could not be. It _could not be – _

I was shouting her name, again and again, my voice growing more and more desperate and frantic every time she did not reply, but I had not realised that I was doing it. She slipped from my arms and lay on the blood-soaked ground, her breathing already weaker, slower, quieter...

And she made the sound I had come to associate with death over the years, the one that the Wood Elf who had been my first kill had made, the one that Gurak had made, the one that almost everyone I had seen die over the years had made. A strange, choked mix between a cough and a gasp.

And that was when I knew.

I knew.

My blood seemed to turn to ice within my veins. My heart pounded against my chest. The world seemed suddenly clearer as pure rage began to burn in my blood, and I looked up to see the Argonian still standing there, gazing with malevolent glee at the fallen Dunmer. But then he met my eyes, and though I could not see my own face I knew that there was death in my expression. A promise of death that he seemed to know already I planned to keep.

He took a pace backwards, then he turned and ran, still holding his red-streaked blade in his hand, his black robes billowing around him. He was at the passage that led to the outside world within seconds. But I made no move to follow. Because I did not need to. For I was still gripping my sword in my hand, and now I straightened up and threw it like a javelin, sending it shooting through the air like a silver comet. It struck the Argonian between his shoulders, and his feet were knocked from under him, and with a twisted scream he, too, fell and lay panting and writhing on the stones.

Only then did the world seem real again. Only then did the realisation of what had happened truly hit me. And it hit me so hard and so fast and so painfully that I felt almost as if it had been me who had taken the Argonian's sword.

I am a practical mortal – or, at least, I try to be. I have never fantasised about the future, or wished for impossible things. But then, for the first time in my life, I found myself pleading in my mind, begging in a way I had never begged for anything before. _Please, let this be a dream. Let it all be a dream. Please. Please…_

But I knew that it was not a dream, and never would be. No, it was real. All too real.

'Gallus.' Her voice was soft as a breath of wind. 'Mercer...'

I knelt down beside her, my entire body trembling like a leaf in a strong wind. 'Dralsi,' I whispered, and at the sound of the name it was as if a wall broke within me, letting my emotions through. I felt my eyes sting with tears, heard a broken, choked sound rip from my mouth...

The grey-skinned face twitched into a pained smile, the ruby eyes shining with warmth. 'No tears, my brothers,' she murmured. 'No regrets. No fears. No turning back. This is the destiny that Nocturnal has laid out for me, and I... I accept it.'

'No.' My voice felt thick in my throat, and the word almost seemed to stick to the inside of my mouth as I said it. 'Dralsi, please...'

Her eyes burned into mine with such intensity that the end of the sentence trailed away into silence, a silence only broken by the sound of her rasping breaths. 'You'll take care of Karliah, won't you?' she murmured.

I nodded, tears almost blinding me. 'Of course.'

She smiled. 'Tell her I love her.'

'No, Dralsi. Please! Don't give up. Tell her yourself. Stay with us!' I grasped her hand, holding on to her as if I hoped that as long as I did not let her go, she could not leave Nirn.

She shook her head, a tiny movement that I almost missed. 'I've lived too long, brother. This is my time, and I am glad to go...' A sigh slipped from her mouth. 'You are strong, Gallus. You will go on, I know that. You always done, and fight for what you know is right. For if you do, then you may prove to me-'  
She broke off, with a small gasp, her body convulsing. Swallowing, she spoke again in a voice that was little more than a whisper. 'You may prove to me... that I was not mistaken in what I thought was right...'

Her hand slipped from mine.

And as it did, I am almost certain that I saw her eyes slide past me and focus on something that I could not see, that a look of delight and love crept into her eyes, and that I heard an almost inaudible whisper echo in the air.

_'Elrandor?'_

And then... there was silence.

Never before had silence done to me what that silence did. Because that silence was unlike any other silence I had ever experienced before. It was worse even than the silence of Henja's empty home when I found her missing. It cut me right down to the core, tore me apart with merciless hands. For this was the silence of the death of someone who I had trusted more than almost anyone else for so many years. Someone who had offered me a new life, given me a future. Someone who had made me who I was. Someone who had been there, who had always just been there, for year after year, someone I knew I could depend on, someone who had always been there for me, someone who I had never thought could ever die.

But there is a reason that we folk are known as mortals.

Someone was making a terrible sound, half a sob, half a scream I had a feeling that it was me. Mercer's hand was on my shoulder, and he was saying something I could hear, but which was not registering inside my mind.

_Why was this not a dream?_

I looked at her face. So calm. So accepting. So serene. And I heard her words inside my mind. Words I knew I would never forget. _'You are strong, Gallus. You will go on, I know that. You always done, and fight for what you know is right. For if you do, then you may prove to me that I was not mistaken in what I thought was right...'_

And a thought struck me that instantly banished all the self-pity that lurked within my mind, and made me whirl around, a question forming on my tongue that made my heart twist until I felt it would break in two.

'Mercer,' I burst out.

He blinked. 'Gallus?' he asked, sounding uncertain. Almost afraid.

'Mercer,' I said again. 'What in the name of Oblivion are we going to tell Karliah?'

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**And finally... it's done. Sorry for the long wait, but I knew better than to try writing anything when I had so much to do, I'd stress myself out. I hope this chapter can make up for the wait. And I'm so sorry for killing Dralsi. I feel like I've been doing nothing but getting rid of characters in this story! But she'll be the last for a long time, that's a promise. It was time to get things rolling and for that, I'm afraid this had to happen.**

**Anyway, thanks for waiting! And thanks even more for reading! :D**


	29. Tears

**If you look at the story info, you may notice that Gallus has become a character option, and that's thanks to Moonflower04, who very kindly took the time to add him. Thank you so much!**

**A slightly shorter chapter this time, but I felt like it didn't need to be any longer.**

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

'We tell her the truth.'

We were nearing Riften, and the snow was swirling around us even more strongly than it had been when we had set out. The sky, usually jet black at this hour, was painted white by the seemingly ceaseless flurry of white flakes. It was impossible to see the stars, to gaze upon the night sky. I usually loved the snow, but I would have been prepared to cut off my sword hand if it had meant that the snow would stop. Then I would be able to look up into the ebony-coloured emptiness above me, to gaze upon the heavens. Dralsi had always loved to gaze upon the night sky, and now she was the night sky. I wished more than anything that I could look upon that blackness, and know that she was there.

But she was not there yet, I reminded myself. She would be in the Twilight Sepulchre now, guarding the entrance to Nocturnal's temple in death just as she had done in life. Perhaps her spirit would be reunited now with those of her friends, siblings and partniers-in-crime, Blade and Sereniel. I smiled to myself. Their long wait before they could receive the reward they so deserved would be made far more cheerful by the fact that they would be in each other's company.

But meanwhile, here on Nirn, we would have to cope with the pain of losing her. And I dreaded what would happen when Karliah learned of her mother's fate.

Mercer's statement made me glance at him, surprised. It had been many long, weary hours now since I had asked the question that he was answering. We had dragged the blood-streaked, twisted corpses of our fallen foes from the Hall and left them in the wilds for the wolves, hawks and other scavengers to feast on. They deserved no better after what they had done. What little would be left of them after the wild creatures had eaten their fill would rot away into the earth, until nothing remained of them. There would be no sign at all that they had even existed, nor that they had ever entered Nightingale Hall. And yet their coming had made the greatest difference to me, because they had slain my sister. My teacher. My friend.

Once the invaders were accounted for, we lifted our fallen comrade gently in our arms and carried her out of the hall. I knew that no matter how long I lived, I would never forget the heartbreaking scene that had followed as we laid her down on the snow. Her jet-black stallion, Dusk, had raced forwards from the trees where he had been taking shelter from the snow, alongside Ebony and Flint. With a small snort, he had pushed his velvety nose into his mistress's side, nuzzling her gently, as if trying to wake her from sleep. When she did not stir, he pawed her tentatively with one hoof. And when she still did not open her eyes, he reared up on his hind legs, his front feet flailing in the air, tossing back his head and letting out a piercing whinny that tore at my heart. You may think me foolish, but I know that there was grief and pain in that sound. I have always maintainted that the horses of Nirn are far, far more intelligent that we mortal folk give them credit for, and I knew that Dralsi had owned Dusk for many, many years, and that the stallion and the Dunmer had fought in more battles that could be counted. The two had formed a deep and seemingly inseparable bond. Dumb beast though he may have been, Dusk was mourning for his mistress.

It made my heart ache all the more. Because if Dusk was this shattered by Dralsi's death, what in the name of the Nine Divines was Karliah's reaction going to be?

Once we had managed to calm him, Mercer and I lifted Dralsi onto his back, deciding that the black horse had the right to bear his owner one final time. We trailed back to Riften in a sad procession, neither of us speaking. Neither of us seemed to be able to find anything to say that could possible voice our feelings over what had happened to our sister. I knew that Mercer grieved for Dralsi's passing, even though he had not really known her, if just because she had been an ally in many battles. And as for me... I felt certain that my life would never be the same again. It was as if someone had pulled the ground out from beneath my feet, leaving me to fall. There was a heavy feeling inside me, as if a heavy stone were lodged in my stomach, and my throat was tight. I wished I could weep, but my tears froze the moment they left my eyes.

Now, the lights of the city were beginning to loom up out of the swirling whiteness. The cold was biting at every inch of skin I had exposed, and I could barely feel my fingers. Ebony, Flint and Dusk resembled nothing more than four-legged snowballs. I was exhasuted, wounded in several places, my insides felt as if they were tearing themselves apart, and I dreaded what would happen when we arrived back at the Cistern. I thought of Ahsla, who we had left by the fishery, and who had been Dralsi's best friend when the Dark Elf woman had still been with the Guild. Ahsla had already been through one tragedy - the business with Sabinus, a secret I had shared with no one. And now her friend was gone too. But that was nothing compared to what Karliah was going to have to endure. Her father had been stolen so cruelly from her when she was only a child, and now her mother, her only known blood relative, lay dead. Every daughter should be close to her mother, but Dralsi and Karliah, I knew, had treasured a special connection formed from years of solitary life, hunting and wandering together day after day. Karliah was a strong woman, but this... I shivered, and not only because of the coldness of the night. Losing her mother might well rip the young elf apart.

_She's a fighter, _I told myself. _And Mercer and I will help her get through this. _I thought of the request that had been one of the last things Dralsi had ever said to me, her dying wish. _Take care of Karliah. _And I had promised that I would.I closed my eyes and swore a silent oath - both to the mother who had taught me and to the daughter who I had taught - that I would fulfill that promise.

As I opened my eyes again, I heard Mercer's voice cut through the silence. An answer to the question that I had asked him back in the Hall, only moments after Dralsi's spirit passed to the Sepulchre.

'We tell her the truth.'

I nodded, because I knew he was right. 'Yes. There's nothing else we can do.'

'She's got the right to know.'

I dipped my head again. We would have to take Dralsi back to the Cistern. Karliah and Brynjolf would probably be back from Dawnstar by now. I winced at the thought. Dralsi's daughter would be relaxing in the Flagon with the others, perhaps enjoying a mug of ale and the feeling of accomplishment that always came with a successful mission. She would have no idea that her mother was dead; that Mercer and I were about to bring her news that would tear her life apart.

But once she had been told... she would have a duty to fulfill. Dralsi was dead; the trinity was down to two once again. A third Nightingale would have to arise to take the place of our fallen sister, and I knew instinctively that it would be Karliah. Who else was there who was skilled enough as both a thief and a fighter? Who else had an open mind that would readily accept the secrets and knowledge of the Nightingales?

And had I not wondered, back when I had first met her, whether she was already marked out by Nocturnal, just as I had been? She came from a long line of Nightingales, after all. Yes, her destiny was clear. She would be the third member of our trinity.

'It isn't going to be easy for her,' I told Mercer quietly. 'She and Dralsi were very close. She'll need our help.'

We had reached the stables. Mercer dismounted swiftly. 'I'll go and talk to the guards. Make them turn a blind eye to the fact that we're carrying a a dead body through the city,' he said.

I nodded, and the Breton jogged away towards the city gates. With a heavy heart, I led the horses into their stables, and lifted Dralsi down from Dusk's back. Even though I was exhausted, she was easier to carry than I would have anticipated. She had always been small and slender in stature, and she was nowhere near as heavy as I'd expected. But it still took me some time to reach the gates. By the time I reached them, the guards had vanished. I didn't know what Mercer had said to get rid of them, and I didn't really care. I was just glad they were gone.

We entered the slumbering city and made for the Ratway entrance, knowing that it would be impossible to get Dralsi's body through the trapdoor and down the ladder. The tunnels seemed darker and longer than usual, and nothing was stirring, not even a skeever. In the rational part of my mind, I knew that on such a cold night, anything living in the Ratways would be sleeping, reserving as much of its energy as possible. But it felt to me as if the entire world had been stunned into mourning for Dralsi.

'The others will be wondering where we are,' Mercer said suddenly, shattering the silence. 'Ahsla will have gone back to the Guild when we didn't show up after a while. They'll be asking questions.'

'Let them ask them,' I replied blandly. 'We just won't answer. Anyway, with any luck they'll be more concerned with the fact that a former Guild sister is dead.'

Mercer grunted. 'Damned Daedra knows how to pick her moments, doesn't she?'

'Nocturnal can't choose when the Sepulchre is attacked,' I told him quietly. 'Those mages attacked when they did and there was nothing that she could have done - apart from summon us to the defence of the Temple.'

The Breton glanced at Dralsi's limp form. 'Do you think she decided that it was time for Dralsi to die? Or was it just bad luck?'

I shook my head. 'That's not a question that I can answer, Mercer. Mortal folk cannot even hope to understand the workings of the minds of the Daedra. And Nocturnal is the most mysterious Prince of them all. You'll have to wait until you pass to Evergloam before that can be answered for you. You can ask Nocturnal yourself.'

'Ha!' Mercer let out one of his scornful snorts. 'That had better not happen any time soon.'

We were approaching the entrance to the Flagon, and I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. There was no going back now. We would have to face whatever came. I drew in a deep breath, and stepped towards the door.

'Stop right there!'

The voice was sudden, and filled with tension and ferocity. Mercer's sword was drawn in an instant, flashing dull gold in the weak light despite the dried blood that still clung to the blade. But I had recognised the voice, with its distinctive accent, and I hurriedly shook my head at the Breton. Mercer relaxed slightly, but his hand still gripped his weapon tightly.

'Brynjolf?' I called uneasily, peering into the gloom ahead.

A figure loomed up out of the shadows, and I saw a pair of familiar green eyes widen in shock. 'Gallus?' the Nord asked, the hand that clutched his dagger dropping to his side. 'Mercer? Where've you-'

'It doesn't matter,' Mercer snapped at him. 'Get out of the way.'

The Guild's newest member stared at us, looking perplexed. Then his gaze fell on the body in my arms, and even deeper confusion crossed his face. I understood instantly. He had never met Dralsi, but her likeness to Karliah was obvious instantly.

'Who-?' he began nervously.

I breathed in deeply. 'Karliah's mother,' I told him softly.

He stared at me.

Mercer let out an impatient huff. 'Are you going to move, or am I going to have to shove you out of the way?'

Brynjolf started slightly, and quickly fumbled with the bolt on the door to the Flagon, and pulled it open. We followed him through the deserted chamber without speaking. The Guild must have assembled in the Cistern once they had realised that Mercer and I were missing. I felt like my feet were made of lead as we reached the door. But I knew that this had to be done.

Brynjolf lifted the latch and slipped noiselessly inside. Mercer glanced swiftly at me, then followed. I drew in another long, deep breath, and stepped after them.

The Cistern was deathly silent. That was the first thing I noticed: the silence. And then the stillness. Every Guild member was there, and not a single one was moving. I swept my eyes over them. Elandine, Ahsla, Thjon, Elruen, Dar'zha, Ma'rhaz, Delvin, Vex... and there she was, standing a little apart from the others, her face pale and tense. Karliah.

I moved into the light and lifted my head. I knew that any moment now, she would see.

She stiffened, her entire body becoming rigid, frozen. The indigo eyes widened, and even from a distance, I saw the raw, blank shock that flashed within them. I saw the realisaton hit her.

And I heard the cry that broke loose from her, a cry without words or meaning. My heart shattered at the sound, because all of her horror and fear was contained within it. I would not have thought a mortal capable of making such a sound had I not listened to it with my own ears.

For a moment, I met her eyes - eyes that burned with grief and rage. Then she broke into a run, racing desperately across the walkways towards me, and I gently lowered Dralsi's body onto the cold stone floor.

Karliah dropped to her knees beside her mother's unmoving form. There was a look of disbelief and denial in her eyes that I knew all too well. I understood the turmoil that must be taking place in her mind right now. I, too, had once wept over the dead body of my mother, willing it to be a dream, pleading with the Gods to send her back to me. It had seemed vaguely unreal. I had not been able to believe it, even when I felt for myself how cold her hands were, even when she did not answer when I called to her. For my mother had always been there, keeping my safe, watching over me, looking after me. Losing her had been like losing an invisible net that had been strung underneath me in case I should ever fall. And now Karliah was undergoing that same grief - except it would be a thousand times worse for her, since she and Dralsi had shared so many more years together than my mother and I.

'No!' There was a world of pain and torment conveyed in the single word, and I felt the ache in my heart grow stronger and sharper. I wished I knew what to say.

'Karliah,' I whispered, feeling as if I were intruding on something terribly private. 'Karliah... I'm sorry.'

That apology meant so many things. I was sorry that she was dead. I was sorry that I hadn't been able to save her. I was sorry that she had sacrificed herself to save me; that I was returning Dralsi's body to the Guild, instead of the other way round. My throat tightened. It should have been me.

Karliah gave no sign that she had heard what I had said. 'No!' she cried out a second time, clasping Dralsi's cold hand in her own. 'Please, Mother. No.'

I swallowed, feeling my eyes grow wet. Why hadn't I seen the Argonian sooner? Why hadn't I been able to stop this from happening?

Tears flowed freely and unstoppably down Karliah's face now. 'What happened to her?' she burst out, her voice strangled.

I shot a quick glance at Mercer, who looked as uneasy as I felt.

The Dark Elf's body whipped around, and she spat out the words in my direction, fury flashing in the usually calm indigo eyes. 'What happened to her?' she hissed.

Her sudden anger frightened me. I had never seen her in a state like this before. She was always composed and careful, seldom raising her voice, and never losing her temper with anyone. I had seen her in battle a few times, and though she was a fierce fighter, she never succumbed to fury as so many other people did. But now there was pure rage burning in her expression, and it was directed at me.

'Karliah,' I began, holding up my hands warily.

'I said, _what happened?' _The final words were roared so loudly and so ferociously that I flinched before I could stop myself.

'Karliah. Please.' Cautiously, as if I were approaching a wild animal that seemed about to lash out, I crouched down, tentatively placing my hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry. Believe me, I am truly sorry.'

She refused to meet my eyes. I saw her gaze fall on her mother's peaceful face. Her brow furrowed. And I realised with horror that she would recognise the armour that Dralsi wore, because she had seen it before. My mind flashed back through the years, recalling the night that Sranys and I had embarked on our desperate flight to Shor's Stone to find Dralsi and bring her back to help Ahsla give birth to Tonilia. I had inquired after Karliah, then only nine or ten years old, if I remembered rightly. And Dralsi's face had grown grim, and she had replied that the young elf was fine, but 'not happy with me.'

When I had found the time to ask more, I had learned why. A few months earlier, Dralsi, Blade and Sereniel had been summoned to defend the Sepulchre. Dralsi, who kept a set of Nightingale armour in her home to save fighting her way over to the armour stones every time Nocturnal called her to the hall, had been preparing herself to leave when the young Karliah, awakened by the noise her mother had been making, had caught her only moments before her departure. Unable to explain why she was leaving, Dralsi had been forced to make her way to the Hall without telling her daughter why. She had expected to return within an hour or two, but that fight had been unusually fierce, and had taken far longer than expected. And so Karliah, who even then had possessed the determination and loyalty to those she cared for that made her such a valuable Guild member, had grabbed her bow and quiver and set out to search for her mother.

Dralsi, returning from the Hall, had been horrified to find her only child in the middle of the wilderness - with a dead bandit lying at her feet with an arrow embedded in his flesh, and a second bandit preparing to bring his war axe down upon her. A swift and accurate shot had quickly resolved the situation, but Dralsi's anger at how her daughter had risked her life was swiftly replaced with guilt as she realised how much she was keeping from Karliah. And Karliah had, quite understandably, been rather angry with her mother for abandoning her, and for lying to her. The two had soon put the experience behind them, but neither of them had ever forgotten it.

And Karliah would not have forgotten this armour. I could see the realisation dawning on her face, saw her beginning to put two and two together. Very slowly and deliberately, she rose to her feet and looked me in the eye.

'Where did you take her?' she asked. The words were softly spoken, but they burned with anger.

I desperately tried to think of what to say.

'Where did you take her?' the Dunmer repeated more loudly, her hands bunched into tight fists. 'I know you took her. I know you did.'

There was no denying it, no way to lie to her. She had been lied to enough already.

'Yes,' I told her, forcing myself to meet her enraged gaze. 'We did.'

'Then this is your fault!' Though she shouted the words, they came out choked by tears. 'I trusted you, and you took her to her death! You might as well have stabbed her yourself!'

The words pained me, pained me terribly. I knew that in truth she did not mean it, that it was her grief that brought her to this. No, the words did not pain me because they were intentionally hurtful, but because they were true. I had betrayed her by keeping the truth from her, even if I'd had no choice in the matter. And I was definitely responsible for Dralsi's death. If not for me, she would still be alive. Yes, I might as well have been the one to drive the blade into her heart.

'Why did you do it? _Why?'_

I breathed in deeply. Just like Mercer had said, I had to tell her the truth. She deserved the truth. She had a right to know the truth. 'You're right. And I will tell you why. I promise.' I gazed calmly into the two purple pools of hatred and rage. 'I swear on everything I hold dear that I will tell you. But not now. Not here.'

She glared back. 'Why?' she demanded fiercely.

I looked around at the rest of the Guild, who were staring at the three of us with shock and suspicion on their faces. I knew that I could not explain while they were listening. As a Nightingale, I had to keep the Trinity a secret from those who did not need to know about it. 'Meet me outside Riften at midnight,' I told Karliah quietly, in a voice that I knew none of the others would be able to hear. 'Then I'll explain everything. I promise.'

For a few more moments, she stared at me with loathing in her face. And then the fire died from her eyes, to be replaced with a look of barren despair and desolation. The rage was suddenly wiped from her, as if she no longer had the strenth to be angry. Not with me, not with anyone.

Wordlessly, she sank to her knees again beside her mother's body, buried her face in her hands, and cried. And I wept too, not only because Dralsi had been my teacher and my friend and my sister, but because I could not bear seeing my friend so heartbroken.

I turned back to Mercer, who had finally sheathed his sword. 'Help me get rid of the others, will you?' I murmured.

He nodded, understanding instantly. Karliah should be left alone to grieve in peace. The rest of us had no right to intrude.

It took little persuaion to usher the others from the Cistern. Even the ones that had never known Dralsi seemed to understand that their Guild sister needed to be alone.

I glanced back as I left the Cistern. It was dark, for most of the torches had been extinguished. But in what little light there was, I could see the indigo-eyed Dunmer still crouching over the body of her mother, her broken sobs echoing through the dim chamber. And suddenly I felt a terrible feeling of doubt enter my heart. Dralsi had died because of the Nightingales, and her death had shattered Karliah's entire world. And how many other people did I know who had been slain because of their involvement with the Trinity? Far too many. There were those countless invaders who I had battled inside Nightingale Hall, and there were the people who I had thought of as my family - Sereniel, Blade, and now Dralsi. And I thought of how much being sworn to Nocturnal had changed my life, and how much it had changed me. How much it had changed Mercer. How much it changed everybody. How much it would change Karliah, if she was brought to complete the Trinity. Her soul would be pledged to the Daedra for the rest of eternity, and her life would forever be governed by Nocturnal, a force that no mortal could ever hope to understand.

Did I truly have the right to do that to her? Did I have the right to do such a thing to anyone?

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**Next time, a new Nightingale will have to be chosen... and will Gallus have the courage to tell Karliah that Dralsi died saving him? Only one way to find out! Thanks for reading! **


	30. Beginning

**I hope this chapter is up to scratch, because seeing as in a way I'd already written it once it wasn't the most interesting one to write. All the same, I hope you enjoy it. :)**

**And please excuse any spelling mistakes. I've read through it and I think I've got rid of them all, but my spellchecker currently isn't working so there may be some.**

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CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

If I had managed to force back my grief until it lay in the back of my mind, present but dormant, I could not do the same for my guilt. No matter how much I tried to banish it, to focus on the present instead of dwelling on the past and the future... I simply could not do it. The shame of what I had done to Dralsi, and what I was about to do to Karliah, had me gripped firmly in its clutches, and it would not let go.

I had never questioned my place as a Nightingale before. But now I was - questioning it so deeply that I could almost feel it paining me physically. It wasn't at all that I thought I wasn't worthy. Since the day I had taken the Oath, I had followed Nocturnal's orders to the letter. As far as I was aware, I had never given her any cause to doubt my loyalty. But I had always taken pride in my position. Always. I'd never really considered the sheer amount of death that I had seen - and been responsible for - since that fateful day when Sereniel had died, and Dralsi and Blade had brought me to the Hall.

And now... I let out a long sigh, placing my head in my hands. It was nearing midnight. Soon, Karliah would be coming to meet Mercer and I here at the stables. I had already prepared Dusk for her. The three of us would ride for Nightingale Hall, and Karliah would take her mother's place. Just as Dralsi had intended. Just as Nocturnal had almost certainly intended. Just as I was beginning to doubt was the right thing to do.

I thought of Sereniel. The elf had seen the turning of many, many years. I knew for a fact that at least an entire century had passed between her birth in the forests of Valenwood and her death on the streets of Riften. It wasn't the Nightingales that had caused her death directly, but what if Nocturnal had decided that the Wood Elf was no longer of any use to her, and had chosen to dispose of her? And then there was Blade. There was no denying the fact that the Argonian had died because of his place in the trinity. He had been past his prime, for sure, but he had not been old. Had it not been for the Nightingales, he could have lived for many more years. But he never had. He had died in the darkness of the Hall, his body fatally wounded by a lightning bolt, a smile on his face as he remembered the day he had received his name, thanking the Divines and the Hist that he had lived up to that name as he died.

And now Dralsi. Dralsi, the first Guild member I had ever met. Dralsi, who had taught me so wisely and so well. Dralsi, without whom I would never have joined the Guild, and found where I belonged. She, too, was gone. She was the daughter of a legend. She had lived for countless human lifetimes. She had been one of the strongest fighters I had ever known. But it hadn't mattered. She had died, just like Sereniel, just like Blade, just like Gurak, just like all the countless people I had seen fall in my time.

How many more Nightingales had died for the sake of the Trinity in the past? How many more would die in the future? Would that be how I died, fighting to defend the Hall, the Sepulchre, and the Skeleton Key? Like Blade, I wanted to go down fighting when my time came. I did not fear death. But what I did fear was dragging an innocent into danger. Bringing someone young and free into a world of treachery, danger and death. Taking someone like Karliah from an easy and happy life and forcing her to become a Nightingale. Making her take an Oath that would bind her forever.

I didn't have the right. Surely, I didn't have the right to ask the Dark Elf to sacrifice her very freedom to Nocturnal, to make her sell her soul to the Daedra. I knew that the Dunmer were more in tune with the Daedric Princes than other races, but still... what right did I have to force than responsibility upon her?

I knew that I had no other choice. I had promised her that I would answer her questions. She deserved an answer to those questions. Her mother was dead. She had to know how - and why - it had happened. And she could not know the truth unless I told her every one of the secrets I was hiding from her. And she could not be told those secrets unless she became a Nightingale.

My journal lay open in my lap. I had tried to write, to put down my feelings in ink, let them flow out of me. It usually helped. But today, I had not been able to write anything. Except for six words.

_Dralsi died in the Hall tonight._

It was the simple truth. And it was the most painful sentence I had ever written in my entire life.

I closed the leather-bound book and replaced it in my pocket. And as I did so, I remembered that it had been Dralsi who had given it to me. I had to stop for a moment to contain my emotions.

Why did I feel so afraid to do what I knew I had to do? Dralsi had been certain that this was her daughter's destiny. And I had had no qualms about initiating Mercer, all that time ago. Why now had this affected me so badly? That should have been even worse for me. Blade had not ever been quite as dear to me as Dralsi, but he had been closer to me than any other Guild member except for Mercer. His death had affected me just as badly as Dralsi's was. And even though Karliah had been my apprentice, Mercer had been my best friend. Surely I should have been more concerned about bringing him into the Nightingales, if I was so worried about Karliah now?

And then I realised. Dralsi's final wish. _You'll take care of Karliah, won't you?_

I was afraid, so terribly afraid, of betraying my teacher by failing in that duty. Was this taking care of Karliah, giving her to Nocturnal?

I heard the distinctive crunch of footsteps in the snow behind me. Rising to my feet, I turned to see Mercer standing behind me, holding Flint's reins in his hand. The Breton glanced up at the sky. The snow had at last subsided, and the white had faded into deep, inky blackness. The twin moons shone brightly down on the scene, bathing the forests in silver and red, making the snow-landed boughs of the trees shine until they seemed to be made of rubies and diamonds.

'It's nearly midnight,' Mercer remarked. 'She'll be coming along soon.'

I sighed softly. 'Yes, she will.'

He sat down in the snow beside me, and I sank back down. 'You're afraid of what she's going to say when she finds out, aren't you?'

I raised and lowered my shoulders in a slow shrug. 'Partly, yes. I've no doubt she'll be pleased to discover that Dralsi isn't truly dead. But she's going to be told secrets that have been kept from her for a very long time, and she may not like it. And quite apart from that, we're about to ask her to give up both her life and her death to Nocturnal. Giving up your soul to the Daedra... it's a daunting prospect, isn't it? I had years to prepare for it, and you're so thick- skinned I expect you hardly thought twice about it-'

'I didn't,' Mercer assured me.

'-but it'll be different for Karliah. She's far more sensitive than you are, and this is going to be thrust upon her suddenly. She won't have much time to come to terms with it.'

Mercer shrugged. 'Don't worry yourself. She's a fighter. She adapted to life with us quickly enough. She can adapt to being a Nightingale just as easily.'

'I hope you're right,' I muttered, clasping my hands together.

My second-in-command grinned, scooped up a handful of snow, and tossed it at me. 'Stop being so full of doom and gloom, will you? Karliah's more than able to become a Nightingale. Anyway, what choice do we have? Dralsi wanted Karliah to replace her, and she's the best person for the job anyway. So stop picking holes in everything and let's get on with it.'

I laughed. 'I suppose you're right. There's no one else ready to become a Nightingale. And It's what Dralsi wanted.' I brushed snow off my shoulders. 'What would I do without your good judgment, Mercer?'

He gave me a wry grin. 'All sorts of stupid things.'

As midnight drew nearer, we mounted our horses in preparation for the journey ahead, leading them up to the city gates. Karliah didn't keep us waiting for long. The Dark Elf appeared practically on the stroke of midnight, her face still lined with grief, but her eyes filled with determination.

'I'm here,' she told me softly.

'Thank you for coming,' I said, trying to hide my relief. I had been beginning to worry that she wouldn't turn up.

She looked curiously at the horses, in particular Dusk, who seemed to have recognised her and was rubbing his face against her chest in an affectionate manner. 'You never said we were going anywhere.'

I breathed in deeply. Time to give her the answers she sought.

'You want to know the truth, Karliah. We're here because you have a right to know the truth. And I do want to tell you the truth. Indeed, I will tell you the truth.' I gripped the reins more tightly. 'But first, there is somewhere we must go, and something that must be done.'

Her mouth opened, and I could see her preparing to ask where we were going, but Mercer interrupted. We're going to the standing stone not far from the city. And we'll explain what we're doing on the way.'

Her expression turned cold for a moment. 'Does the Guild know we're going this time?'

The softly spoken words cut me like a dagger to the heart. I knew what she was suggesting, and I hated it. The mere thought that my first loyalty lay anywhere but with the Guild... it was enough to make my blood run cold. The Guild was my entire life.

But didn't it? Wasn't the whole point of being a Nightingale the fact that you served Nocturnal above anything and anyone else?

_The Nightingales _are _the Guild, _I told myself firmly. _Our purpose is to protect the Guild by bringing Nocturnal's influence into it. Without the luck that she supplies us, we could never be as successful as we are. We would fall to pieces. The Guild needs the Nightingales. When I serve Nocturnal, I serve the Guild. Karliah will come to understand that, given time._

'We are truly sorry for leaving you. We had no choice,' I told her steadily. 'Just as your mother had no choice when you were nine.'

Blank shock flashed in her eyes. 'How do you know about that?' she demanded, suspicion in her voice.

'Karliah, I have to ask you to trust us,' I begged her. 'Please. We'll tell you everything.'

The Dunmer woman closed her eyes briefly, then nodded and pulled herself up into the saddle. 'Lead the way.'

We left the sleeping, snowbound city behind us, setting out towards the Hall. I knew that now it was time to explain in earnest. 'Where would you like us to start?' I called.

She replied instantly. 'I want to know why my mother is dead.'

I bowed my head. It was time for all the secrets to be brought into the open. I patted Ebony's neck quickly. The mare snorted almost reassuringly.

'Dralsi died because of a secret, one that she kept from you all your life. She had no choice in this. If she had told you the truth, she could have been killed. The only reason I am able to tell you know is that before long, you too will be sworn to secrecy.' I saw Karliah beginning to show signs of interuppting, and I quickly held up my hand. 'Please, let me finish. It was your mother's wish that you should take her place after her death. The secret we are about to entrust you with is a secret the Guild has guarded so closely for so long that all but a few have forgotten it. As far as I know, Mercer and I are the only people in Skyrim who know the full truth.'

'Then what is the full truth?'

'The truth is that Mercer and myself are Nightingales.' I gazed calmly at her. 'So was your mother. And you will be too, before this night is out.'

The look in her eyes was unmistakable. Not confusion, but recognition. And I knew instantly that she had heard the name before.

'Surprised?' Mercer asked, seeing her shocked expression.

She shook herself slightly. 'I've... I've heard of them.'

'I don't doubt it. It was inevitable that you could grow up with Dralsi and not know anything about the Nightingales,' I remarked.

'I don't know anything. I just know the name.'

'Nocturnal. Have you heard of Nocturnal?'

She nodded quickly. 'Again, I know the name.'

I frowned. Surely, living with Dralsi, she should know more about Nocturnal? I would have thought that my fellow Nightingale would made sure that her daughter knew all there was to be known about the Lady of Twilight, in preparation for her future. 'No more than that?' I asked.

Karliah shrugged, looking at me slightly blankly. 'Only that she's a Daedric Prince.'

Mercer mumbled something about us having our work cut out, and I shook my head at him warningly.

'Nocturnal is the Daedric Prince of luck, darkness and the night,' I began, trying to make sure that everything I said would be simply to understand. 'You may have heard of her by other names. The Empress of Murk, the Daughter of Twilight...' I glanced at the Dunmer, to see her gazing at me, listening intently. 'Many have tried to understand her, but all of have failed. You cannot understand Nocturnal. Her mystery is as much a part of her as madness is to Sheogorath. The Nightingales are but a part of that mystery. They are the three mortals who serve her.'

Karliah glanced at me, then at Mercer. 'I don't want to pick holes in your arithmetic, but... I'm only counting two.'

I sighed, and told her what she would almost certainly have already guessed. 'Your mother was the third.'

I waited, letting this information sink in, before continuing. 'Every Nightingale that has ever existed takes an Oath with Nocturnal. It is an Oath that binds forever, and the terms are simple. We serve her directly,and in return, she watches over us, guides us, and gives us a share in her,' I smiled, 'quite considerable power.'

'I don't know much about Daedric princes,' the Dark Elf admitted, 'but I know enough to be able to guess that all of that comes at a price.'

'It does indeed,' I affirmed carefully, 'but it is a price that anyone with an ounce of loyalty to the Guild should be willing to pay. In return for her guidance, upon death, a Nightingale's soul cannot pass to Aetherius. Instead, it is sent to Nocturnal's temple, the Twilight Sepulchre. And there it will remain, a guardian of the temple, until Nocturnal feels that the Nightingale's debt to her has been repaid. That may take a hundred years, or it might take no time at all. It all depends on how loyal the Nightingale's service was during their life, and what works they did in Nocturnal's name.'

Karliah stared at me for a moment, and I saw hope spark in the depths of those deep indigo eyes as the realisation hit her. The realisation that somewhere, her mother was still partially alive, and that one day, they might see each other again. The look of joy that was beginning to creep across her face made me smile for what seemed like the first time in weeks.

'To answer the question I can see you begging to ask, yes,' I told her. 'Your mother is in the Sepulchre now. She is not dead, and she never truly will be.'

The look of numb desolation that had hung over my Guild sister since I had returned Dralsi's body to the Cistern was suddenly lifted. It was as if she had been carrying an invisible weight on her back that had only now been taken away. I instantly felt as if I knew her again, as if she were my sister and my friend once more.

'And when her debt to Nocturnal is repaid,' she asked me, and I was able to detect a trace of eagerness in her voice, 'what happens then?'

Mercer grinned slightly. 'When all they owe has been returned to Nocturnal, they are given the ultimate reward.' He winked at me as he said the final two words, as if he were making fun of them.

Karliah was starting to smile now. 'And what's that? A lifetime supply of sweetrolls or something?'

I felt relief crash over me. Her joke conveyed so much to me. It showed that she was beginning to move past the wounds that her mother's death had dealt her. And even better, it proved that she was no longer angry with me. Perhaps she could forgive me for what I had done.

'That's more like the Karliah Indoril I know,' I told her, grinning. 'And no, nice as it would be, sweetrolls play no part in the Nightingale's reward, I'm afraid.'

Mercer held up a hand. 'Hold on. I know this bit by heart, thanks to someone who never stops repeating it.' He cleared his throat. 'In the heart of Nocturnal's temple lies the Ebonmere, the conduit to her realm of Evergloam. Keeping the Ebonmere open is the Skeleton Key, an immensely powerful Daedric artifact that holds the ability to unlock both physical and metaphysical barriers, both in the world and within the one who carries it.'

I frowned. There was a trace of awe in his voice, and that was nothing to be ashamed of. Every Nightingale should be in awe of the power of Nocturnal and the Key. But Mercer's fascination with the possibilities of what the Key could do... sometimes, it worried me.

'Nobody is supposed to carry the Key, Mercer. Tempting though it is, the Skeleton Key's power is far too mighty to be controlled by a mere mortal. It has destroyed many who have tried to wield it. It belongs to Nocturnal, and to Nocturnal alone.'

I gazed meaningfully at the Breton for a long moment, until he sighed and nodded. I turned back to Karliah. 'You must understand this before you take the Oath. The Skeleton Key is not to be underestimated, not under any circumstances. Its power is not for us to bear.'

To my relief, she dipped her head instantly. 'I understand.'

'Good.' In all honesty, I hadn't doubted that she would. Mercer sometimes let his ambition cloud his judgement, but I knew that I would have no such problems with Karliah.

'After the debt is fulfilled,' I continued, 'a Nightingale's soul passes to Evergloam. There, they receive the greatest honour that can be bestowed upon them- they become one with the shadows.'

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at me with a trace of bafflement on her face. I hastened to explain. 'All our lives, the shadows are our friends and our allies. They shield us, guide us, hide our presence. In becoming one with them, we aid the thieves of the future, and become part of that which has protected us for all our lives. But there's more to the Ebonmere than that. It is how Nocturnal influences this world. Through it, she supplies us all with something that we take for granted- luck.'

Beside me, Mercer let out a small, scornful huff. I shot the Breton a scathing glance.'This is your only failing as a Nightingale, Mercer,' I told him impatiently. 'You overestimate the power of the key and you underestimate the power of luck. You say that the art of the thief is about skill- and that is true. Your talents come from you, and you alone. However, luck decides the fates of us all.' Looking at Karliah, I tried to make my meaning a little clearer. 'Have you ever been in a situation where everything has been going to plan, and then suddenly chaos breaks out? A lockpick breaks at just the wrong moment, the man you are trying to rob hears a noise behind him and turns just as you reach for his purse? Or perhaps it has gone the other way. Maybe the guards have been on your tail, there has been nowhere to hide, and quite by chance a cloud has covered the moons and smothered you in shadow for a few vital moments?'

Karliah nodded, looking thoughtful. 'Yes, plenty of times.'

'Then you should understand what I'm trying to tell you. Nocturnal supplies us all with luck. She can choose to hinder or help us, depending on how she sees fit.' I couldn't help but smile as I thought of a way to explain it. 'Though it is Thjon's own natural clumsiness, for example, that causes him to drop plates and accidentally pull doors of their hinges, it is Nocturnal's blessing that stops others from hearing the noise and investigating.'

'And a good thing too,' Mercer snorted, 'otherwise that butterfingers would have been in jail a long time ago.'

'Perhaps,' I consented, 'or perhaps not.'

Karliah looked at me uneasily. 'You still haven't answered my question. My mother. Why did she die?'

'It's part of the Oath. Guard the Sepulchre, guard the Key, guard Nightingale Hall.' Mercer scowled as he said the words.

'He's right,' I told her heavily. 'We guard Nocturnal in life as well as in death. There are many who seek to penetrate her sacred sanctuary. As Nightingales, it is our duty to defend it. When Nocturnal summons us, we must go. We have no choice but to go.'

'So that's why you left!' Karliah exclaimed, her eyes wide.

'Indeed. There was a mercenary attack on Nightingale Hall, and we were summoned to its defence without a moment's delay. Nocturnal can contact us whenever she chooses, and she chose a most inconvenient time.' I tried to swallow the lump that had risen in my throat. 'I can only pray that you will forgive us,' I said softly.

We rode on in silence for some time.

'So where exactly are we headed?' Karliah said at last.

'Nightingale Hall,' I told her. 'Our headquarters. This is where you will take the Oath and receive the status of Nightingale. Should you choose to.' I hastily added the final sentence, well aware that she had every right to refuse, even after all of this.

The look that she gave me was unreadable - halfway between confusion and amusement. 'What makes you think I'd refuse?' she asked me. 'You've told me all this. I don't see that I've got much choice.'

'There is always a choice,' I said quietly. I suddenly found myself thinking of Pàdraig; of how he had made the choice to help me, and died because of it. 'This is a decision that will shape the rest of your life.'

The Dunmer did not hesitate. 'My mother was preparing me my whole life for thing. Everything she ever taught me was in preparation for the taking of this Oath.' She shook her head. 'Refusal is not an option.'

Mercer snorted. 'You got that right,' he told her dryly. 'And anyway, it's too late to back out now. We're here.'

I glanced up to see the familiar cliff face, with the monolith standing sentinel nearby. I winced, knowing that somewhere nearby, in the woods, the bodies of the slain necromancers lay still in the snow where Mercer and I had left them. 'Indeed we are,' I said, pulling on Ebony's reins until she stopped moving.

Karliah dismounted quickly and walked over to where the standing stone stood like an accusing finger pointed up towards the moons. 'That's the symbol of the Nightingales, isn't it?' she asked me, staring at the symbol carved upon its surface.

I dipped my head. 'Its origins are a mystery, and there are none but the Nightingales that know its meaning,' I told her, as I jumped down onto the snow-coated ground. 'Everything to do with our Order is a closely guarded secret.'

I gave Mercer a moment to jump down from Flint's back before trudging through the snow towards the entrance to the hall. The door let out its usual strained, unhappy creak as I gave it a sharp shove, forcing it open. The blackness of the tunnel stretched away ahead of us. I quickly lit one of the torches that hung on the wall and moved off into the darkness.

None of us spoke until we reached the room that contained the armour stones. As we walked through the main chamber, and over the bridge, I wondered if Mercer was thinking the same thing that I was. Only a few hours ago, a pitched battle had raged here in this chamber. The water of the crystalline stream had flowed scarlet. Those crimson smears on the ground marked the places where many foes and a single friend had fallen, never to rise again. And yet now, the place was calm, and impossibly peaceful. The world moved on so quickly. Our lives were so small, so insignificant, when we compared them to everything else.

I approached my stone, resting my hands on top of it. 'Watch,' I said to Karliah, as I felt the initial sensation of being drenched with cold water give way to the sudden feeling of strength and power that always came with the forming of the Nightingale armour upon my body.

Mercer grinned. 'It's kind of fun,' he said, slapping his own hands down on the stone.

Karliah looked between us, amazement plain on her face. 'Don't ask either of us how it works, just be glad it does,' I chuckled, patting the shimmering black metal appreciatively. 'It's supple enough to let you run as fast as a galloping horse, and tough enough to stand against any blade-'

I snapped off the end of the sentence, as if the words had suddenly become stuck in my throat. The meaning of what I had said struck me like a blow from a giant's club. It was true that this armour could withstand nearly every attack dealt upon it. But Dralsi's had not.

There was a tense and uneasy silence.

Mercer coughed slightly. 'Almost any blade,' he said awkwardly.

'Karliah,' I said, my voice sounding slightly strangled. 'I'm sorry.'

Her face was impassive, betraying no emotion, as she swept past me and laid her hands on the third armour stone. 'Doesn't matter. I guess her set was old,' she said brusquely.

Mercer snorted and leaned towards me. 'Way to dig a hole and jump in it, Desidenius,' he hissed into my ear.

I glared at him.

Karliah stepped away from the armour stone, flexing her fingers as if trying to get used to the feeling of the metal. 'Good. You're ready,' Mercer announced, stepping towards the gate that led to the next cavern.

I caught him by the shoulder. 'She's ready if she says she is,' I said to him, but I looked at the Dark Elf as I said it.

She nodded. 'I'm ready,' she told me firmly.

I gazed at her, searching her face for some sign, however slight, that she might have forgiven me for not saving Dralsi. All I wanted was the tiniest indication that she was no longer angry. Relief swept over me as the look in her eyes softened as she met my gaze. I could not see her mouth, since her mask concealed all but her eyes, but I knew that she was smiling. It seemed she was trying to reassure me.

Sending a silent prayer of thanks to the Divines, I led the way through the gate and into the cavern that contained the platforms from where we would call to Nocturnal. The sound of our footsteps mingled with the drip of water from the ceiling into the pool as we parted ways on the largest platform. I took up my usual position on the centre circle, with Mercer on my left and Karliah on my right. I glanced at the Dark Elf, standing rigidly in her place, her indigo eyes burning with apprehension, and raised my eyebrows a fraction. If she wanted to leave, to escape all of this and put it in the past forever, this would be her final chance. And I would not blame her in the slightest if she chose to do so. It was well within her rights, after all that had happened to her this night.

But there was no doubt in those deep bluish-purple eyes, not a flicker of hesitation. Only steely determination. She caught sight of me looking at her, and gave me a small nod. Confirming her choice.

She had chosen the Nightingales.

I breathed in deeply, lifted my arms and looked to the stone ceiling, knowing that the time had come.

'I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal,' I called, my voice echoing around the blackness of the chamber. 'Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow, hear my voice!'

It took only a few tense, breathless moments for the light in the chamber to begin to fade, for darkness to smother us in its shadowy embrace, for the purple wisps of mist that masked the invisible presence in the centre of the room to flicker into being. I bowed my head instantly and lowered my arms, feeling a familiar rush of adrenaline surge through me as I felt the eyes of the unseen entity that stood before us upon me.

Nocturnal's smooth voice rang out through the cavern. _Welcome back, Gallus. __And you, Mercer. I believe you called? __For what reason do you call upon me so soon after your… struggle?_

I breathed in shakily. 'My Lady,' I said as clearly as I could, 'we are here to present you with one who is willing to take the sacred Oath.' I glanced at Karliah. 'To fill the place among us that stands empty now that Dralsi Indoril is dead.'

_Indeed. And who, pray might this be?_

The feeling that I was under Nocturnal's scrutiny vanished, and I knew that her attention was now focused on Karliah. The Dunmer shuddered slightly, but gazed at the cloud of mist and answered in a firm voice. 'I am Karliah, daughter of Dralsi.'

_Ah… Karliah. Yes, you are Dralsi's daughter. _The purple cloud swirled, and the air seemed to tremble. _I know your name._ _I've been waiting for you._

She paused for a moment, as if allowing this to sink in, before continuing._ I have watched you for some time. I seldom take interest in the actions of mortals, but your mother was a valiant fighter, and I have always seen much of her in you. She was a great Nightingale, born of a great Nightingale. Her services to me were undyingly loyal. Can you offer me as much?_

The Dark Elf spoke a little edgily. 'I hope so, my Lady.'

_Hope? _Nocturnal echoed, a hint of danger in her voice. _Hope is not good enough. What I ask from you is commitment. Commitment to your fellow Nightingales and to me with devotion that never wavers. If you are not willing to strive with heart and mind and soul to do my bidding, you are not worthy to take the Oath._

I saw Karliah tense, looking suddenly afraid. I knew enough of the ways of the Dark Lady to be sure that this was only a test of the Dunmer's initiative and confidence, but I felt compelled to come to her rescue. 'I have had the honour of working alongside Karliah for two years now,' I called out. 'She has courage and determination that is seldom seen in anyone, she has learned quickly and she has achieved great things. I have never doubted her loyalty to the Guild for a single moment. There is no question that she will serve the Nightingales, and you, just as faithfully.'

Even as I said the words, I knew that they were true. Each and every one of the members of my Guild was utterly devoted to their brothers and sisters in crime. But few could match Karliah for loyalty or dedication. When she made up her mind to do something, she would not rest until she had seen it done. She was a born thief, a fearsome fighter, and an ideal Nightingale. Her pride and her firm morals would never allow her to break her Oath.

_Is that so? _Nocturnal asked me quietly, sounding vaguely amused. Her gaze travelled away from me, back to the Dark Elf. I felt myself relax, although I hadn't been aware of tensing. _And can you confirm this?_

Karliah breathed in deeply. I cannot make any assurance that I will never let you down,' she announced carefully. 'But I will do everything that lies within my power to make sure that I do not.'

I knew instantly that she had said the right thing. It always paid to be honest with the Lady of Shadows, and it would have been difficult for my Guild sister to give a more honest answer than that. It seemed that Nocturnal thought the same, for when she spoke again, she certainly sounded satisfied. _A wise and honest answer. I deem you worthy of the sacred name of Nightingale._

I let out a small sigh of relief, though in truth, I had never doubted that Nocturnal would accept the Dunmer, when she was ready, willing, and more than able to take the Oath_. Before Karliah affirms her allegiance, you must make vows of your own. _The smooth voice seemed to sound directly in my ears now. _Have you made certain that she understands the terms of this agreement?_

'We have,' I said quickly, hoping that it was true.

_Do you swear to offer her any help and guidance that she requires as embarks on the path of the Nightingale?_

This was a promise I could be certain of. As Guildmaster, I was bound to give my Guild brothers and sisters any assistance that they needed anyway, and for a fellow Nightingale, I would do the same. 'We do,' I affirmed.

Nocturnal spoke more gravely now. _And are you prepared to guard your fellow Nightingale with every ounce of strength that you possess, and, should the need arise, to give your lives in order to save hers?_

I did not hesitate for a moment. 'We are.'

Even as I said the words, I remembered the day of my own initiation, when I had stood in Mercer's place and listened to Dralsi and Blade, my two teachers, making that same promise for me. And they had kept it. They had both kept it. And Dralsi had died keeping it. The heed had indeed arisen, and she had given her life to save mine.

Mercer echoed my words. The purple mists swirled faster. _Good. And now, daughter of Dralsi. _The invisible gaze was resting on Karliah once more. _Your friends have made their vows. Are you prepared to undertake your own?_

'I am,' she replied firmly. There was a trace of fear in her eyes, but none in her voice.

_Then, Karliah Indoril, do you swear to defend with your life the Twilight Sepulchre and the treasure it contains, as well as the secret of your existence, no matter what might befall you?_ The air in the cavern seemed suddenly colder, and I found myself shivering.

Karliah lowered her head. 'I do.'

_And do you vow to protect the lives of your fellow Nightingales with all of your strength and honour, and, if necessary, your blood?_

'I do,' she said again.

_And do you accept that from this moment forth your life is bound to mine, and that in both this world and the next, you must defend my sanctuary and the Skeleton Key- whatever the cost?_

Karliah hesitated for a moment, seemingly readying herself to make the third and final vow. 'I do.'

_Then, Karliah Indoril, daughter of Dralsi Indoril, _Nocturnal announced,_ I name you Nightingale._

The warped patch of air in the centre of the chamber shimmered and swirled. _Remember, Nightingale- this Oath is not to be taken lightly. You have pledged your very being to me. The Oath is struck, and your fate awaits you in Evergloam. _Nocturnal's voice took on a cold, warning tone. _Your Oath is binding, Karliah, but it is not unbreakable. Should you betray me or your companions, or fail in your duty as a Nightingale, then it will be shattered into pieces. And be warned- if it is ever broken, your Nightingale status will be gone, and you will be nothing in my eyes. Break the Oath, and you betray your fellow Nightingales, betray your Guild, betray your honour, and- most dangerous of all- you betray me. Is this understood?_

I shivered again, but this time it was nothing to do with the iciness of the air. There was something about those words that made my skin prickle with unease. I wish more than anything I could have known then what those words would mean for Karliah in the future, known what they would condemn her too, for then I could have done something to prevent it. But I did not know, and I had no way of knowing.

Gods above. How much pain could I have saved her had I known?

'I understand,' the Dunmer said clearly, and I hoped with all my heart that she was right.

_Very well. Then the trinity is restored once more. Gallus, Mercer, Karliah- you are the Nightingales. _The fog grew stronger and larger. _The Sacred Three have risen again._

The mists swirled more rapidly and expanded for a moment; then they died down and vanished into nothingness, snuffed out like a candle. The darkness receded as light began to fill the cavern once more, and the air started to warm. All that was left of the Dark Lady's presence was her final farewell; the words she always spoke.

_Fair fortune, Nightingales. Eyes open. Walk with the shadows._

* * *

We buried Dralsi in the graveyard that night, near where Blade, Gurak and Sereniel lay, and next to the place where Elrandor had been laid to rest all those years ago. It pained me to think of Karliah's father. He was not a Nightingale, and never had been. Wherever the Dunmer went upon their deaths, he would be there. And Dralsi would be in the Sepulchre now, and after that she would pass to Evergloam, where no ordinary mortal could ever hope to go. The two of them could never hope to be reunited. Unless, of course, Nocturnal had taken pity on them and rewarded Dralsi's loyal service by allowing him into her realm. I doubted it, though, and it pained me to think of it. The two elves had loved each other so much, and been so loyal to each other. The last word that Dralsi had ever spoken had been her husband's name. It seemed so cruel for them to be torn apart once again in death, just as they had been in life.

I knew that I would not be able to sleep. Not when I had so much to think about. On nights like this, when my mind was in turmoil, I preferred to sleep in Honeyside, away from the noise and bustle of the rest of the Guild. But tonight was different. Tonight, I knew, I would never be able so sleep, no matter where I was. There were just too many thoughts churning inside my mind.

And first and foremost was the fact that there was one secret I had not yet confessed to Karliah; one that she had a right to know. I had to tell her that Dralsi had died to save me. I knew that if I failed to confess it, I would carry the guilt with me forever. I was afraid to tell her, but I knew that it would be better to do it now than later.

I waited until dawn, spending what was left of the night sitting beneath a tree by the edge of the lake, gazing out over the water, knowing that the Dark Elf should be left alone to grieve in peace for as long as possible. But once the sun had risen far above the horizon, and the sky had turned from ebony to sapphire, I knew that it was time. Summoning my courage, I made my way back through the frozen city, my feet sinking deeply into the snow with every stride I took. I was unsurprised to find Karliah still standing in front of her parents' graves, still as a statue, the dusting of snow on her shoulders showing that she had been there for some time.

I stood beside her for some time before she became aware of my presence. She glanced at me swiftly, then looked away. I followed her gaze, my throat tightening as I read the words that Elandine's magic had engraved on the headstone.

_Dralsi Indoril_

_A loving mother_

_A wise teacher_

_A loyal friend_

_And a true warrior_

Nothing could possibly have been closer to the truth.

'I wish I had known her for longer,' I said without thinking. 'She taught me so much.'

Karliah smiled sadly. 'I think that goes for us both. I hadn't spoken to her for two years. We hadn't even seen each other since I left for Riften. If I'd known that would be the last time I'd see her…'

Her jaw clenched, and a shudder ran through her body. I tentatively placed my hand on her shoulder, and, when she did not shrug it off, kept it there.

'You could not have known what would happen,' I told her firmly. 'Dralsi died defending everything she held dear- her Guild, her honour, the Nightingales…' _And me, _I thought, but did not say it out loud. 'Nocturnal will receive her with open arms. Few ever served her for so long, and so faithfully.'

I looked at the Dunmer's young, tear-streaked face, and I knew then that I had to tell her. Here and now, before my courage failed me.

'Karliah,' I began, carefully selecting my words. 'I didn't want to tell you this at first. I... I suppose I was afraid that you would hate me for it. But you have the right to know.' Breathing in deeply, I forced out the words. 'You mother died saving my life.'

She looked up at me sharply. 'What?'

I did not trust myself to meet her gaze, so I looked downwards, looking at the diamond glints on the blanket of snow that covered the ground. 'She sacrificed herself so that I might live,' I said heavily. Once again, I saw the nightmare play before my eyes - the Argonian lunging, Dralsi throwing herself in my path, the sword piercing her heart...

'She stepped in front of me at the last second and took a sword thrust intended for me,' I told Karliah, gritting my teeth and forcing away the memories. 'Had I been killed, you would not have lost your mother.'

I looked up again, to see her staring at me with blank shock stamped on her face. Mentally pleading with her to say _something, _but dreading what it would be, I waited.

'Oh,' she said at last.

I swallowed nervously.

Her gaze rested on her mother's grave for a moment, then returned to me. She shook her head. 'It wasn't your fault. She knew what she was doing.' She paused for a moment, then added, more quietly, 'I'm sorry for what I said earlier. It was nothing to do with you. I didn't mean it.'

The word relief does not even begin to describe that I felt in that moment. I felt as if I had been carrying a great burden that had suddenly been lifted. I felt a smile creeping over my face.

'I know,' I said. 'You were angry. You had every right to be angry. Perhaps I should have told you the truth a long time ago. It was inevitable that you would stumble upon it sooner or later.' With a small sigh, I looked down at the ground again. 'I only wish it had not been so painful for you.'

'That would have broken your Oath. My mother kept her secret from me for a reason. She knew that it would be best for me.'

'She only ever wanted the best for you.'

She smiled. 'I know.'

I looked at the place where my mentor lay, and thought of her kindness, her devotion, her unfailing loyalty to all those that she cared for. 'She must have been a wonderful person to have been brought up by.'

'She was,' Karliah replied instantly.

'She was the best mother anyone could have asked for,' I said suddenly. It was as if everything I had been unable to say earlier had been bottled up inside me and was now leaking out in an unrelenting torrent of words. 'She taught me so much about the world, about how to survive. She could tell a story so real you'd think you were there. She could shoot a bird on the wing without looking. She could make a healing potion powerful enough to save someone on the brink of death. She took care of me through thick and thin. Nobody ever cared for me so much in all my life.'

My throat tightened as I thought of how alone she must feel. I knew all too painfully well what it was like to lose one's family, but I had severed my ties to them out of choice. And even if my own mother was dead, at the time, I had not been old enough to fully understand the concept of death. For Karliah, it was different. First her father and now her mother had been snatched away from her, one after the other. She must feel so isolated, so alone.

I looked at the shadows that were flung out from the base of the wall, and forced myself to think of the fact that sooner or later, Dralsi would be there, watching over us from the next world. 'The Divines must have blessed us both by allowing us to be part of her life,' I said softly.

'I'll never be half the woman she was,' Karliah burst out brokenly. 'Not even if I live for a thousand years.'

She sounded so desperate, so helpless, so lost. As if everything she had once believed in had been revealed as a lie, and she no longer knew who to trust or where to turn. And I realised then just how strong a bond she and Dralsi had shared, and just how cruel and frightening the world must seem to her without her mother there. So much so that she was even beginning to doubt in herself, the one thing that she would have been sure of until now.

A spark of determination suddenly leaped into being inside me. One thing I would not allow her to do was doubt herself. 'No,' I said. 'That's true. You won't. Because you're not your mother, Karliah. You're you. Nobody else. Trying to become somebody else is useless. The only person you should try to be is yourself.'

She turned to me, a trace of confusion in her eyes. 'I don't properly know who I am,' she admitted. 'If I spent the rest of my life trying to figure it out, I doubt I'd manage it.'

'Who wants to discover who they are?' I asked. My mind flew backwards in time, as I recalled what Henja had told me, the words that Arnjar had said to her. _Every mortal in the world has the right to be who they want to be. The Divines gave us all free will. It's not up to others, it's up to us. Follow where your heart leads you. Don't look for who you are. Look for who you dream of being._

'The only person I want to find,' I told the Dark Elf, jerking myself back into the present, 'is the person I aspire to be.'

She stared at me oddly. 'I don't think I've ever thought of it like that before.'

I shrugged. 'Well, maybe now's the time to start.' I smiled at her with all the warmth I could muster. 'We shape our own futures. It is our dreams that make us who we are.'

I decided to leave her then. She had enough to think about, and so did I. And no matter what happened, life in the Guild had to go on. It was time to begin the day.

I gave Karliah a quick nod and a smile, and hurried back towards the Cistern, praying with all my heart as I went that I had done something at least to comfort her, and thanking the Divines that she had not blamed me for her mother's death. I knew I would carry the guilt with me forever, but then, I still carried guilt for many things. I had come to live with the shames of my past. I just had to keep looking forwards, towards the future.

What I could not have known was what the future would hold. What my words and actions that day would one day lead to. That this was the beginning of something far greater than anything I had ever experienced before.

Up until that day, almost all of the great events of my life had been to do with the Nightingales, and the workings of the Daedra. But Karliah and I had begun something that only mortals could begin to understand.

For as I clambered down the ladder into the Cistern, I thought of Dralsi's final request. _Take care of Karliah. _And I knew then that I would, no matter what it cost me.

I have made many promises throughout my time on Nirn. I am only aware of ever having broken one. But that promise I made then... it was different, somehow. I knew, even then, that this was no ordinary promise.

But what I could not have known was that it would shape my future, Karliah's future, and the Guild's future, for countless years to come.

* * *

**And now, hopefully, for some fun chapters!**

**About Elrandor... I know that Nocturnal would almost certainly never allow an ordinary mortal him into Evergloam, but I like to think that he's there for Dralsi. And no one will ever make me change my mind. XD**

**Thanks for reading!**


	31. Outrun

**Welcome back, everyone! Another stupidly long chapter, but it wouldn't have made sense to split it up. I hope you enjoy it - especially the ending. What's so special about the ending? You'll have to find that out yourself. ;)****  
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* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY

_11th of First Seed_

_When I look back through the pages of this journal, I find it a struggle to believe some of the things that I wrote only a few months previously. Things seem so different now. Could there really have been snow covering the entire country, so deep and thick that it was hard to walk? Was the air truly so icy and cold? These trees that sway gently back and forth in the wind in front of me, was I dreaming when I wrote about how their boughs were bare and how their branches were weighed down by teeth of ice as long as my sword?_

_In truth, I know that I was not hallucinating, that at the time, all those things were true. If I concentrate hard, I can dimly recall how the snow shone like powdered diamonds and how the chill breeze numbed my fingers. The nights were long and dark and the days short and freezing. There was little birdsong in the mornings, and Karliah hardly had a moment to brew any potion that was not intended for the curing of disease. The twins went down simultaneously with a hacking cough that lingered for weeks, Delvin (despite all his teasing of the Khajiit brothers about how thieves didn't get ill) was forced to remain in bed for two days, and even Mercer came down with the flu, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Karliah and Elandine were worked off their feet. In fact, we ran so short on certain ingredients for potions that I actually found myself organising missions to break into apothecaries for the simple purpose of stealing them._

_And then, everything changed. The nights began to shorten, the dawn coming sooner. The birds sang louder and stronger with every passing day. I awoke one morning and hurried outside to find that the snow was gone, leaving only patches of muddy white huddling at the foots of trees and walls. And then the countryside exploded with colour as flowers sprang up from beneath the soil, and before we knew it there were drifts of white, yellow, pink and blue wherever we turned. Mountain flowers, tundra cotton, frost mirriam, lavender, deathbell… they are everywhere. Karliah, of course, has hardly spent a single moment inside the Cistern since the thaw, preferring instead to gather ingredients in the woodlands. I've no issue with that. Since our stock of alchemy ingredients ran so low over the long and bitter winter, I think she has every right to want to replenish it._

_I've not had much time to write here since the snow melted, though. As soon as everyone was free to wander about the land agian, Skyrim came back to life once more, and it seemed almost as if the entire country wanted the Guild to sort out its problems. I very quickly lost count of the amount of businesses the Black-Briars asked us to cripple. So many town guards chased me that it was something of a miracle that the soles of my boots managed to hold themselves together.. And even though I've been fiddling with locks since I was six years old, I could probably have filled my chest in the Cistern with the lockpicks I snapped during that couple of weeks after the thaw._

_Despite the vast flow of gold it brought to us, I was relieved when the sudden rush of jobs started to peter out. We're actually beginning to find the time to sit around the Flagon again, chatting, playing cards, or else doing nothing at all. I'd almost forgotten how wonderful it feels to have a few moments to myself. And yet now, we seem to have gone to the opposite extreme. Since spring took a firm hold on the land, business has been even slower than it was in the winter. The jobs we've been taking have paid excellently, so business has been blooming. There's no need to be worried at all. And yet it is a little tedious, sitting around with nothing to do after getting so used to being rushed off my feet!_

_Ah, well, always look on the bright side of life, as they say. Having so much time to spare has given me plenty of oppurtunity to do other important things - such as going up to Winterhold to visit Enthir, and dropping in on Henja and Arnjar on the way home. Enthir is delighted - he recently asked me if it would be possible for me to 'aquire' some black soul gems for him. Needless to say, this was an easy task for me (I think I am allowed to be a little self-satisfied in the privacy of my own journal, just so long as I don't allow it to become a habit) and I delivered a rather fine selection of them to him yesterday. He tried to pay me for them, but I wouldn't hear of it. In my list of favourite people, Enthir ranks only behind Mercer, Henja and Marcella, and I would never accept payment from such a close friend._

_And what of the Guild? Well, I think all is well here. We have seen no new recruits for a while, but our numbers are large enough. Little Tonilia - though soon we won't be able to call her 'little' any longer - managed to create her first complete set of Guild armour yesterday, without any help from Ahsla. She made it for Brynjolf, whose armour suffered a little ill-treatment at the hands of a group of bandits recently, and according to the Nord, she couldn't have done a better job. Which, of course, means there's a very happy Redguard bouncing around the Flagon right now. It sometimes seems amazing to me that Tonilia can be so carefree when her birth was surrounded in so much suffering, but as far as I know, Ahsla has told her nothing about her father, and does not plan to._

_There was, however, distressing news recently. Azhanri is dead. My old friend Azhanri, the Khajiit caravan leader, whose stern, prickly exterior masked the keenest of minds and a heart of gold. She became ill during the winter, perhaps unsurprisingly, seeing as she was a creature of the deserts, and begged her family to allow her to return to Elsweyr so that she might see her homeland one more time before she died. She boarded a ship to Elsweyr, and died only a few days after her arrival in her birth country. S'resh told me that she died peacefully in her sleep, content now that she had at last returned home. I will miss her terribly, for I know I will never forget the kindness she showed me that night when I was only six years old, fleeing from my family. It is strange, and somewhat painful, to think of how few people knew of her existence, and how even few people cared. But now she rests beneath the sands of her homeland, and what a difference it has made to me, and to all others who knew her!_

_It is perhaps an odd thing to say, but I wish she had met Dralsi. I think they would have liked each other._

_Talking of Dralsi, that is another thing I almost forgot to mention. Now that I have so much time to spare, I have begun to make use of a couple of empty tomes I found lying around the Cistern. Perhaps, in many years' time, the Nightingales will no longer exist. I cannot imagine why that might happen, but in the case that it ever should, I have decided to do what I can to prevent our true nature from being forgotten. Therefore, I have done what a scholar does best; written a book. In fact, I am beginning a second. The first explains the purpose and duties of our Trinity, and the second, which is, at present, only a few chapters long, is far more personal. It speaks of individual Nightingales, of their histories, of their legacies. What better way to honour Dralsi, Blade, Sereniel, and all the others who died in the service of Nocturnal? Thus far, I have recounted as much of Dralsi's history as I know, along with that of her father Drayven and her daughter Karliah, and soon I will go on to say what I can of my own past, and of Mercer's. It will be a tricky thing to talk out of him, but I am confident that I will persuade him in the end. And then I will turn to my old friends Blade and Sereniel, before delving back through history to learn what I can of Nightingales whose names have been lost of the ages. How I wish I had done this when Dralsi were still living! What with her being as old as she was, she could have told me so much. Still, it cannot be helped. And I cannot help but be proud of myself for what I have achieved. It eases the pain of losing them, too, to write about them._

_When I have finished, I shall conceal them within Nightingale Hall. Perhaps some day some stranger in the future will be glad that I did._

_It is strange for me, to write about the pasts of my brothers and sisters when I keep my own so deeply hidden. I know about the histories of almost all my fellow Guild members, so why do I make so sure that they know so little about me? Am I ashamed or afraid to remember? I don't know. I simply can't say what it is that stops me from telling anyone about myself, and what brought me to join the Guild. I told Dralsi and Blade, and I think that back when I first joined, everyone knew that I was a runaway from my family. But now almost everyone who knew me back then has gone. I am not sure if anyone knows the truth about my past now - except for Mercer, of course. _

_Have I truly left it all so far behind me? I remember them all - my father, my mother, Marcella, Prosperus - but I can barely even see their faces in my mind any more, and I have all but forgotten the sound of their voices. The memories are so vivid, and yet at the same time, they are hazy. How can that be?_

_I suppose it was all just so long ago. And it is so unimportant now. The things I have left behind, the boy I once was, the family I once called my own - that doesn't matter any more. Not to me, nor to anyone else. I have a new family now, I am almost a different person, and my life with the Guild is what counts. What is the use of dwelling on the past when my life is so wonderful here in the present?_

_I miss Marcella, and I miss my mother... and I suppose I miss Prosperus too. I'm not sure how I feel about my father. Why would he do what he did to his own wife? I just don't understand._

_I wish I did know. But at the same time, I don't want to. I want to live in the here and now. Though I will always wonder what the truth might be, I know it is better for me if I never know the answers to my questions. I am a Guildmaster and a Nightingale now, and that is what I must think about. My Guild, my home, my duty, and my true family._

* * *

What was it about the city of Markarth that always, without fail, made my skin begin to crawl the moment I opened its gates? Perhaps it was something to do with what I went through in the reach on the fateful day that we attempted that training mission. The mere sight of the craggy hills and stunted bushes forces me to remember that night. The roar of the flames as they devoured the Forsworn camp, leaping and dancing, glowing bright amber in the blackness. The sound of the screams of my foes as I severed the ropes that bound the bridge to the walkway, as they fell from the cliff to their doom on the rocks below. The cold, merciless eyes of the Briarheart Morvan, and the terrible, sickening sight of the red flower that rested in his chest in place of his heart. The feeling of gut-wrenching pain as Pàdraig's body went limp in my arms, his life draining away from him... I could never forget a single detail of that battle. Maybe that was why I simply could not bear the Reach, despite the fierce beauty of its landscape.

Or perhaps it was because of the feeling in the air when I walk among its people. The atmosphere was - and perhaps still is - one of mistrust, sorrow, and barely restrained rage. Both the Nords and the Reachmen, in my eyes, had an equal right to be angry with each other, and yet it always made me shudder, for I could taste that anger in the air. The people of Markarth walk quickly, briskly, as if they expect to be attacked the moment they drop their guard. They talk with tense, low voices. You would think they anticipated someone leaping out from behind a wall to stab them in the back at any second.

It is a beautiful place, there is no doubt about that. And yet it seems as if the streets are stained with blood. You cannot forget the massacre that took place there, of the countless lives that were lost, of the families that were torn apart, of the men and women who collapsed at the bases of walls that you now walk past, or in the gutters that run by your feet, to choke and gasp and breathe their last. And even if you can banish such thoughts from your mind, there is, of course, the actual city itself. The streets are winding and confusing, almost mazelike, and almost every map of the place is faulty in some way. The towering, forbidding cliffs, the vast spires, the thick stone walls... to be sure, the Dwarves who built it knew their craft well, and it is a wonderful sight to see. But I know that whenever I visited Markarth, I always felt trapped and enclosed. As if there would be nowhere to run if danger were to strike.

Still, as I strolled through the marketplace now, with three of my most loyal Guild siblings trailing behind me, I was able to put my unease aside. It was a bright morning, and the soft blue of the sky was unbroken by a single streak of white could. The air was fresh, clear and warm, and it was easy to forget my troubles. After all, there was little to be afraid of, when my friends were with me.

Vex, at the rear of our party, stopped suddenly, gazing at the jewellery stall. 'Gallus...'

'No, Vex,' I said gently. 'We're not here to rob the stallholders.'

Her eyes flashed. 'Why not? There's a pile of gold and silver sitting there, and we're thieves.'

'Look, lass, it's great that you're so eager.' Brynjolf seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. 'But we do have a mission, remember?'

The teenage Imperial pulled a face. 'Break into Understone Keep, steal stuff from the Thalmor, I knew,' she growled. 'But that stuff is begging to be stolen.'

'Temptation is the thief's downfall,' Karliah and I said in unison, before glancing at each other and grinning. I knew exactly where the Dunmer had learned that phrase, and it was from Dralsi Indoril.

Vex looked at us, scorn and confusion in her eyes. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Karliah glanced at me, and I nodded to her, indicating that she should explain. 'Well,' the Dark Elf said carefully, 'It means that every thief should be careful about what risks they take. Sometimes there'll be wealth right in front of you, and you'll want to steal it more than anything else in the world. But when you allow the promise of gold to put you in too much danger... that's when you end up getting yourself killed.'

Scowling, Vex kicked at a pebble, sending it skittering across the paving stones. 'I'm not going to get myself killed,' she growled.

'So you say, lass,' Brynjolf shrugged. 'But this is Markarth, remember. The people here won't be lenient if they catch us - 'specially not the Thalmor.'

Tossing her head confidently, Vex glared at both Brynjolf and Karliah in turn. 'I've been in the Guild longer than either of you. So I'm more experienced, and neither of you should be able to tell me what to do!'

I chuckled gently. 'I hate to remind you of it, Vex, but even if you have been in the Guild longer, Karliah and Bryn are older than you, and as such, they've had quite a lot longer to practice their art than you have.'

Seemingly unable to come up with a suitable argument for this, Vex satisfied herself by snorting and lashing out at another stone, sending it into the river. 'So what exactly are we here for?'

I stopped and pointed up at the sheer stone wall in front of us, where the Jarl's palace was built into the side of the cliff. 'Understone Keep. A group of Thalmor guards have been posted there quite some time now. They've made quite a few enemies in Markath - quite understandably, I think - and so we've been hired to teach them a lesson.' I looked carefully between the faces of my companions. 'Listen, all of you. I've come up against the Thalmor a few times before. Some of them are all right, but most of them are heartless, merciless and utterly ruthless. I expect you've listened to Elandine enough times to understand.'

'So they're arrogant snobs who won't like it of they catch us stealing. So are most of our targets,' Vex said carelessly.

I shook my head. 'Vex, please pay attention to what I'm saying. It's for your own sake that you simply have to understand this. The Thalmor take no prisoners. They see us as inferior beings, barely even worthy to walk on the earth of Nirn, no more worth their time than insects. If they find us, if any of us are caught by a member of the Dominion, then we will not be taken to prison and eventually released, like we normally would. They will kill us - and that's if we're lucky. They could torture us if they wanted to, and no one would be able to stop them. Have you got that?'

I gazed into the girl's eyes, and I thought that at last I detected a trace of genuine fear in them. That was good. I didn't want to frighten her, but if she was scared, she'd be less likely to take any foolish risks.

'And as this is Markarth, even if regular guards catch us, we're in trouble,' Brynjolf growled bitterly. 'They're always looking for more workers down in Cidhna Mine.'

A shudder ran through all of us. Every mortal in Skyrim knew, and feared, the Mine's reputation. It was one of the closest things there was to Oblivion on Nirn, a place of torment and suffering from which no one escaped. Looking at Brynjolf, who was normally so cheerful and now seemed subdued and grim, I wondered if I had made a bad choice, bringing him to Markarth. Nords were vulnerable here. If he found himself in Cidhna Mine, I did not want to think about what the vengeful Reachmen who were imprisoned there might to do him, what with how much they loathed his kind. And it would be even worse if the Thalmor caught him. I wasn't sure whether or not Brynjolf was a follower of Talos, but many Nords were. And Talos worship was what the Thalmor detested above all else. Maybe I should have made him stay in Riften - but then, there had been no one else with the skills for the job who was ready to do it. Elandine, as an ex-Thalmor member, would have been at even more risk than Bryn. Ahsla was hard at work making a new set of armour for Tonilia, who had outgrown her old gear. Mercer had been left behind in charge of the Cistern. No, Brynjolf was the right choice for this mission, but we would all have to be careful.

'We can do this,' I said firmly, 'but we are going to have to keep our wits about us. We cannot afford to mess around, or to lose our heads, or to take any risks. Is that understood?'

Three heads nodded, and three pairs of eyes - amber, green and indigo - glimmered with determination.

'All right, then. Let's get down to business.'

We strode through the streets, occasionally tugging Vex away from a tempting market stall as we went. As we neared the keep, I started to explain my plan. 'Now, I expect you were wondering why I brought so many of you on a simple break-in mission. Well, the answer's actually a lot simpler than the job. It's partly because I thought you'd all appreciate getting a chance to escape from the Cistern for a while, but it's mostly because .we're going to need to split up to get this done. If we want to make an impression on the Thalmor, we'll have to steal something from their commander. But his quarters are kept under armed guard at all times.'

Brynjolf nodded. 'I get it. We need to lure them away, right?'

'Exactly. What's more, the Thalmor commander will probably be in his chamber right now. We can't break in until he's out.' I turned to Vex. 'This is an assessment of your skills, young lady, and since Mercer's not here, I'll be going with you on the actual break-in. Bryn and Karliah, I'm holding you responsible for distracting the guards. Don't take any stupid risks, and don't get yourself killed. Try not to get anyone else killed, either. Have you all got that?'

Karliah and Brynjolf nodded dutifully, but Vex's scowl deepened. 'Sure, I got that,' she told me, 'but I'm not a lady, and I'm not that young.'

Brynjolf sniggered.

'All right,' I sighed, exasperated. 'Just so long as you understand what you have t do, I don't care what you want us to call you.'

'Well, what exactly do I have to do?'

I coughed slightly. 'Well, it partly involves scaling the side of a cliff.'

I had to be impressed by how undaunted the girl was by this news. 'Can't be much harder than climbing up the side of a house. If anything' I'd say it would be easier. More things to grab onto.'

'I suppose that's partly true,' I conceded. 'I'll be going with you. As soon as the guards are out of the way, we'll do the usual routine of clearing the place of valuables. And then we escape as quickly as possible.'

'Without getting caught by the Thalmor,' Brynjolf added.

With a wry smile, I dipped my head. 'Yes, preferably without getting caught by the Thalmor.'

We continued onwards through the streets until we were standing beneath the cliff face. High above us, a tiny window, little more than a slit, provided our way into the Keep. Vex looked up at it doubtfully. 'Are you sure we can get through there?'

'It's all right,' I assured her, laying the heavy bag that I'd been carrying down on the pavement. I've never used that way in myself, but Blade told me of a time when he got into the Keep through that window. It'll be a bit of a tight squeeze, but we can make it. Anyway, that's part of the reason why I chose you for this part of the job. You're small enough to fit through easily, even if I can't.'

Vex bristled. 'I am _not _small!'

'No, but you're not as big as the rest of us,' I said, with as much patience as I could muster. Vex's constant insistence that she was the perfect size and everyone else was overgrown could become rather trying at times. I quickly changed the subject, kicking the bag. 'I've got ropes in here for climbing up the cliff, but I think it'd be better to wait until nightfall before we get to work. If it's darker and everyone else is asleep, it'll be less likely that we're spotted. The Keep should be more lightly guarded, too.'

'And what are we doing in the meantime?' Brynjolf asked, raising one eyebrow.

I shrugged. 'Whatever you like.'

Brynjolf grinned widely and rubbed his hands together. 'That's what I wanted to hear. See you in the inn.'

He strode off, humming a Nordic folk tune as he went. Vex shook her hair out of her face and looked defiantly at me. 'I'm going with him,' she said, making the statement sound like a challenge.

I chuckled. 'I never said that you couldn't, Vex.'

She gave a tiny jerk of her head, as if trying to acknowledge what I had said without agreeing with it, and flounced off after Brynjolf.

'Meet us back here after nightfall!' I shouted after them. Vex tossed her head, which I took as an indication, that she had heard, but otherwise gave no response.

The moment the two of them had vanished around the corner I collapsed against the side of the wall and burst out laughing. 'That girl is true Thieves Guild material,' I told Karliah. 'She's going to go far, you mark my words.'

The Dunmer raised and lowered one shoulder doubtfully. 'She's spirited, that's certainly true. But personally I don't think she has enough respect for you, or your authority.'

I shrugged. 'Oh, that doesn't worry me. I've never seen any great need to have everyone respecting me. I'd much rather that you all thought for yourselves.'

'Well, of course we do that,' she replied. 'And I know that all of us respect you. But it's important for Vex to...' She paused, as if searching for the right words. 'To stop being so rebellious. It's as if she's trying to make sure we all know she can't be controlled or ordered around by anyone. Fair enough, but a condition of being a member of the Guild is that you have to obey your Guildmaster.'

I nodded, partially agreeing with what she had said. 'Yes, I'm aware of that. But you know I don't care for having people treating me like royalty.' Thoughtfully, I tucked a few runaway strands of hair behind my ears. 'The thing is, I can understand Vex's attitude. I was like her once; a runaway brought into the Guild by chance, with no home, no family, no bindings to anyone. And I wanted to prove myself more than anything. This is Vex's way of showing her worth to us: trying to leave us in no doubt that she can take care of herself. And since it's always good to have someone in the Guild who knows their own mind, I don't have a problem with that. Have you ever known her to actually disobey a direct order?'

Karliah shook her head. 'No, just argue with it.'

'There you are, then.' I straightened up and picked up the bag again. 'She wants to be defiant enough to make us all know that we can't push her around, but obediant enough for us to consider her as a loyal member of the Guild.'

The Dark Elf hesitantly inclined her head. 'That's true.'

I smiled to myself. Karliah and Vex worked well together when they needed too, and each had a healthy amount of respect for each other. But there had never been very much love lost between the pair of them. Oh, they liked each other well enough, but they were simply too different to ever be real friends. Karliah was serious, calm, considerate and reserved, whereas Vex was impulsive, reckless, snappish and something of an extrovert. It would have been a miracle for them not clash occasionally.

Anyway, I thought with satisfaction, it was the variety of personalities within the Guild that made us so successful.

'Well, what are you planning on doing, since we have so much time to spare?' I asked her. 'Will you be joining the others in the inn?'

Karliah shook her head. 'No. I was thinking of wandering around the town for a while. I've heard much of its beauty, and now I have an oppurtunity to see it with my own eyes, I think I'll take it.'

I looked at her in surprise. I had been planning on doing the same. Even if I disliked the city, there was no arguing with the fact that the architecture was stunning, and . 'In that case, do you mind if I join you? The way that the Dwemer constructed this place is fascinating, and I actually arrived here early on purpose, with the intention of looking around.'

The Dunmer laughed. 'Why does that not surprise me? Of course I don't mind. And I think it's my turn to carry that bag.'

Without giving me any time to protest, she snatched it up and shouldered it, before gesturing for me to take the lead. 'So, where are we headed?'

I hesitated, then chose a direction at random and pointed. 'Um, that way?'

'Why not?'

We headed down the street together, and as we did, several thoughts occurred to me in quick succession. Firstly, I thought of how - despite my praise of Vex's spirited nature - it was immensely refreshing to be in the company of someone who didn't question me. Secondly, I realised how pleased I was to have company in this city that made me so uneasy.

And the final thing I thought about was that, even though I tried to be as open and honest as possible with everyone, it was quite remarkable how easy it was for me to voice my thoughts when in Karliah's company.

* * *

'For the last time, lass, will you keep your voice down?'

Vex's usual scowl deepened still further. 'You're junior to me, so don't go giving me orders.'

I sighed wearily. 'Well, I'm very much senior to you, and I'm asking you to do what he says.'

The Imperial girl kicked at the ground, and from her fierce expression I knew that she was trying and failing to come up with an argument.

I glanced up at the window high above us, then snapped my fingers sharply. 'Bryn, go and watch the end of this alleyway, please. If you see anyone coming, alert us straight away. Vex, start unpacking all those ropes, because in a minute or two, we'll be needing them. Karliah, could you find out if anyone's at home for us?'

The Nord nodded and jogged away down the moonlight-washed streets. Vex bent down and started yanking the climbing equipment we had brought along out of the bag, throwing it down upon the pavement. Karliah gazed up at the high window for a few moments, seemingly judging the distance. Then she nocked an arrow to her bow and took aim, squinting down the length of her shaft.

Vex glanced up. 'If you're aiming for the window, I think you want to point that arrow a little higher,' she declared.

Without turning her head, Karliah replied in somewhat frosty tones. 'Vex, I've never tried to teach you how to pick a lock. Kindly don't tell me how to fire an arrow.'

She didn't wait for a reply, but released her shaft and instantly flattened herself agains the side of the cliff. I quickly copied her, urgently gesturing for Vex to do the same. The girl stared at us in confusion for a second, then hurriedly followed our example as, high above, the arrow struck the stone just above the window, and clattered back down onto the street again. A mere heartbeat later, window was flung open, and the golden-skinned face of a High Elf man appeared above us. I saw him turn his head right and left, looking around for whatever had disturbed him, but the night and our dark leathers hid us from his view. With an indistinct curse, the Altmer pulled his head back inside his room, slamming the window again.

I let out a breath I only realised then that I had been holding in. 'It appears that the room is indeed currently occupied,' I announced. 'Karliah, you and Brynjolf can attend to that, I'm sure.'

The Dunmer dipped her head in response, but Vex snorted. 'I'm sure even they could get _that_ done.'

Karliah drew in an angry breath, seemingly trying to restrain herself, and Brynjolf ground his teeth together. 'Vex, that's enough,' I told her sharply. 'If you don't have anything helpful to say, don't say anything. I've never known anyone more vituperative than you.' Ignoring her confused expression, I quickly continued. 'Once you've distracted the guards enough, it should be easy to lead them away. We'll break in through the window and get the job done. In case of us becoming seperated, we meet back in Riften. Any questions?'

Vex raised her hand. 'What does vituperative mean?'

'Prone to highly abusive criticism.'

'Then why didn't you just say prone to highly abusive criticism?'

Karliah laughed quietly. 'Why should he, if he knows the meaning of words like vituperative?'

'We can discuss any peculiarities in my vocabulary later,' I hissed. 'We've got a mission to complete, or had that slipped your minds?'

I saw Karliah give me a strange look, and I realised too late how abrupt I had sounded. I would usually have never allowed myself to speak to my Guild siblings in such a way, but the thought of scaling the cliff - which suddenly seemed vastly taller than it had earlier, when several hours had stood between me and the time when I'd have to climb it - had shaken me badly. My fear of heights was something I simply could not understand, especially since I had no problem with climbing trees, after all the time I had spent doing it with Henja. But I could not afford to show any fear now, in front of the others. Brynjolf and Karliah would be dissapointed if their Guildmaster showed any signs of weakness, and Vex... well, Vex would be downright scornful. No, I had to keep my fear hidden.

Karliah was still staring at me, and suddenly she spoke in her own native tongue. 'Gallus, are you afraid of heights?'

Well, there went my plans to keep it hidden from the rest of the Guild, I thought unhappily.

I glanced up at the cliff face, shivered involuntarily, and looked back at my Guild sister. 'I have been for as long as I can remember,' I replied, also speaking in Dunmeris, and (once again) ignoring Vex's look of confusion. 'It's senseless, really.'

'So are a lot of fears, but that doesn't make them any less painful to those who bear them.' The Dark Elf's brow creased; she seemed concerned. 'Why did you take this job?'

'Mostly because I'm trying to get over it. Don't try to talk me out of it. I've made my decision, and if I backed out of it now I'd lose face with the others.' I nodded at Vex, still looking at us with bafflement stamped on her face, and Brynjolf, barely visible in the gloom at the far end of the street. 'I'd appreciate if you didn't mention it to anyone.'

She shook her head hastily. 'Of course not.' She gave me a look I could not read - something between bewilderment and distress. I understood her confusion - it was foolish of me to do this when I knew I would hate every moment of it. But I had to do it, and I was not going to allow myself to let my fear conquer me.

Still, I appreciated her concern for me.

'Would you two mind talking in a language I can understand?' Vex inquired.

'Sorry.' I gave Karliah a quick smile, and forced my mind to focus on the task at hand. 'Let's start getting this ropes in place. Karliah, can you and Brynjolf start causing that distraction?'

The Dark Elf gazed at me for a moment, then dipped her head. 'Shadows guide you,' she said quietly, and dashed off into the shadows. I saw her pause at the end of the alley, and heard the murmur of words passing between her and Brynjolf. The Nord rubbed his hands together, and a moment later, the two of them retreated into the darkness and out of sight.

I turned to Vex. 'All right, let's get down to work. By the time we're ready to start climbing, Karliah and Bryn will probably have got rid of the Thalmor. After we're up, it should be plain sailing.'

'And if someone happens to come along and see us climbing up the side of the Keep?' Vex demanded.

I shrugged. 'We'll just have to leave that to chance.'

'I don't like leaving things to chance.'

I paused, a small sigh escaping me. 'No,' I replied quietly. 'Nor do I.'

_But I don't really mind leaving them to Nocturnal, _I thought, with a chuckle.

It took some time, and a lot of patience, for us to secure the ropes and hooks we had brought to the side of the cliff, and it was with some pleasure that I heard the enraged yells from above us just as we were fixing the last few pieces of equipment in place. 'I think we have our distraction,' I murmured.

'Then let's get going already.' Vex bounded forwards and started to clamber up the cliff face with enviable ease and fearlessness. 'I don't want to still be here when someone comes along this street and sees us.'

'We should be safe,' I told her, grasping hold of a rock and pulling myself off the ground. 'The citizens of Markarth very seldom leave their homes during night time. I don't think I need to tell you why.'

Forcing myself to look directly at the cliff ahead of me, and not at the gradually growing drop behind me, I started to clamber up the side of the rock face after Vex. Every time my hands slipped, I felt my heart miss a beat. A few metres of rope and my own agility was all that stood between myself and death.

_You're not going to fall, _I told myself firmly. _The ropes are all secure. Vex is having no trouble, so why should you?_

I kept going, focusing on moving upwards without thinking about anything else. I could not afford to show any anxiety. Not when the Guild looked up to me. They expected, and deserved, a Guildmaster who did not give in to foolish fears.

Above me, I saw Vex stop moving, and the ghost of a smile flitted across my face. We had made it. We were now only a short distance below the window.

'Looks like no one's in,' Vex called down to me.

'Then get inside,' I shouted back. 'Before anyone comes.'

The girl nodded, pulled the window open, and slithered inside with the smoothness and speed of a snake. I followed with a lot less dignity and grace. The feeling of joy that swept over me as my feet came down on solid ground again was so powerful that I could have wept with relief there and then.

Vex was looking around with an appreciative expression on her face. 'Not short of money, are they, the Thalmor?' she asked.

I could see what she meant. It seemed to me that the Thalmor commander had been trying to make a statement about his wealth and power when he decorated his room. Practically every inch of spare space was covered with something valuable – jewelry, Dwemer artifacts, ancient tomes. A sheet of Dwarven metal stood against the wall next to me, its surface polished to a mirror-like fineness. Vex, seeing it, peered into it, and brushed a few strands of her hair away from her eyes.

There's a time and a place for vanity, Vex,' I muttered.

She sighed, but turned away from the mirror and started to pick up some of the jewelry. I picked up one of the old books – _The Poison Song, Book ii – _and slipped it into my bag, resisting the urge to open it and begin reading.

'We need to clear this place out quickly,' I said, grabbing hold of a few large, decorative Dwemer struts. 'We don't know how much time Bryn and Karliah will be able to buy us. If they realise that it was a diversion, the commander will come back here, and we don't want to be here when he does.'

Vex snatched up a few golden necklaces. 'D'you think I hadn't worked that out for myself? I know we've got to be quick. You know I'm one of the best infiltrators you've got. Did I ever tell you that I stole an Elder Council amulet once?'

I frowned, putting on a show of thoughtfulness. 'Hmm, maybe. I think you might have said something about it once or twice… every day.'

Vex let out an indignant yell, and threw down the pile of jewelry she had been holding. A resounding clang echoed through the room.

I stared at her. 'What were we saying earlier about being quiet?'

The girl stared at me, then did something I had never seen her do before. She looked at the floor, her face reddening. 'Sorry, Gallus.'

I jerked my head at the window, biting back a grin. 'Come on. Let's get out of here. Someone's sure to have heard that racket; they'll come to investigate.'

Vex scooped up the necklaces she had dropped, stuffed them into her pockets, and ran over to the window. She had just grabbed hold of the rope, ready to clamber out of the room, when the door swung open.

The Thalmor commander stood silhouetted in the doorway, his black robes whipping around him in the light breeze that blew in from outside. His golden skin paled as he looked at us, as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

Despite the situation, I couldn't stop myself from beaming at him. 'Sorry to have disturbed you. My friend here is still learning, you see. You'll have to forgive her making a beginner's mistake.'

As I spoke, I cast a sharp look at Vex. She understood instantly, and pulled herself out of the window, sliding down the rope and out of sight. I started backing towards my only escape route, ready to follow her.

The Altmer suddenly snapped into action. 'Stop there, human,' he snarled, and lightning began to crackle in his palm. 'You are now a prisoner of the Aldmeri Dominion. If you move again, I will not hesitate to kill you.'

I felt my heart pounding, and a great claw of dread and fear gripped me so tightly that for a moment I could neither move nor speak. Was this really where it all ended for me? I would be dragged away, imprisoned, left to the scant mercy of the Thalmor. I would be tortured until I could hold out no longer; until I betrayed the Guild.

A feeling of cold determination crept over me. That would never happen. Not while I still had breath in my body. The glimmer of moonlight on the metal mirror caught my eye, and within an instant, I had worked out a plan. Albeit a mad, desperate and probably hopeless plan. But it was at least a plan, and that was a start.

There was no time for any hesitation, or to think any further about how to escape. Sometimes, you have no choice but to act without waiting to consider what you will do if your plan fails, and this was one of those times. My hand lashed out, reaching towards the sheet of metal. At the same time, the High Elf saw my movement, and raised his arm. 'I warned you, human!' he roared, making me freeze mid-reach. 'You will suffer for this.' His eyes narrowed. 'Goodbye, fool.'

He released the lightning bolt.

'Goodbye!' I said cheerfully.

Then I overturned the mirror and threw myself onto the floor.

There was an echoing, piercing clang, like the sound of a bell. White-hot sparks flew in every direction. There was an agonised cry, followed by a dull thump. Then silence, apart from the sound of my own, ragged breathing.

Carefully, cautiously, slightly afraid of what I would see, I raised my head. The Thalmor commander was lying stretched out on the floor, with the mirror resting near his feet, its surface scorched and blackened. I couldn't stop a small chuckle from escaping me as I realised what had happened. I had been planning merely to use the mirror to block the path of his spell, hopefully distracting him for long enough for me to make my escape. But I had done far more than that. I had deflected the spell back at him, and it had struck him full in the chest. Apart from some singed hair, though, he seemed uninjured – perhaps being reflected off the mirror had sapped some of the bolt's potential. He was unconscious, but still alive.

For a moment, my fingers strayed to the hilt of my dagger as I considered making an end of him now. If I let this man live, he would go on to cause suffering among many more mortals. How many lives could I save if I killed him here and now?

But I shook my head and turned away. I knew that I did not have the heart to murder a man while he was downed. That would be to sink to his level, and that was one thing I would never allow myself to do.

Trying not to look at the yawning, dizzying gap between myself and the ground, I swung myself out of the window and began to clamber back down the cliff.

* * *

Vex was not at the stables when I arrived, but from the fact that her horse was missing I assumed that she had obeyed my instructions and fled. With any luck, she would already be on the way to Riften. _That's one of us safe, at least, _I thought.

As I leaped onto Ebony's back, I knew that I should do the same and escape before the Commander came round and ordered his soldiers to follow us. But Brynjolf and Karliah were still in the city, and there was no way that I would leave without knowing what had happened to them. _If the Thalmor have harmed them in any way, I will rip them into pieces, _I vowed fiercely.

I needn't have worried. Even as I agonised over what to do, the gates were flung open and two familiar figures - one tall and stocky, one small and slender, emerged and raced towards me. 'They're on our tail!' Brynjolf shouted, his voice taut with fear.

I drew my sword. 'Both of you, get on your horses and make for Riften! I'll hold them off.'

As my Guild siblings obeyed, I saw the town guards start towards us, reaching for their weapons. But they hesitated as a group of tall warriors clad in shining golden armour burst through the gates and advanced towards us. The guards glanced at each other, and I knew what was going through their minds. _If these people are enemies of the Thalmor, they can't be all that bad..._

Taking advantage of their hesitation, I released my Subterfuge powers, aiming for a guard who was standing close to the crowd of Thalmor soldiers. I watched gleefully as he drew his sword and, with a ferocious cry, started hacking at the elven warriors, who quickly retaliated. It had the desired effect: seeing their comrade being attacked by the Thalmor was enough to make the rest of the guards hurl themselves upon the elves too. The Thalmor might have an official post in Markarth, and they were meant to be allies of the guards, but I knew well that the people of the Reach harboured nothing but hatred for the Dominion.

Knowing that I wouldn't have another chance to make my escape, I dug my heels into Ebony's sides and spurred her away from the battle, racing after my fellow thieves. But as I glanced back, I saw a group of the gold-clad figures breaking away from the fray and, ignoring the stablemaster's protests, dragging the nearest horses from their stalls.

Gritting my teeth, I urged my steed on. 'Run, Ebony,' I murmured, stroking her gleaming black coat. 'Run like you've never run before.'

The mare snorted and tossed her head, galloping onwards through the night. Gradually, I began to draw level with Brynjolf and Karliah. Squinting ahead, I could just make out a dim shape that was almost certainly Vex.

'They're after us,' I shouted. 'If they catch up with us, we'll have to split up. Forget about the rest of us; just concentrate on getting yourself back home. They'll have to give up eventually.'

They nodded to show that they had heard, but I saw the grim look in their eyes and knew that they were thinking the same as I. We were exhausted, and our steeds were still not fully recovered from the long trek from Riften to Markarth. The Thalmor and their mounts were still fresh. Our horses were strong of heart and fleet of foot, but even they could not overcome their own exhaustion. A single look back showed my fears to be well-founded. The gap between us and the soldiers was gradually narrowing.

We were riding through an open space now, with hills and ragged woods on either side. I cursed my own stupidity - I should have realised sooner that we stood more chance away from the road, where our path would be less predictable to our pursuers. A glance over my shoulder told me that the Thalmor were nearing us now. It was now or never.

Raising my voice, I shouted as loudly as I could. 'Scatter!'

Tugging at Ebony's reins, I pulled her aaway from the road, and into the cover of the straggly trees. I saw Brynjolf and Karliah doing the same nearby, and hoped with all my heart that Vex would realise what we had done. There was no way to help her, though. It was every mortal for his or herself now.

Angry cries from behind me told me that the Thalmor had realised what our tactics were, but it remained to be seen what they would do. Ebony was running flat out now, covering the ground so quickly that it almost amazed me that she hadn't taken off and flown. I steered her southeast, knowing that there were two ways to Rifen from here. I could go straight east, across the plains of Whiterun, into Eastmarch, and then south until I came to my beloved home city. Alternatively, I could go south first, cross through the forests of Falkreath and approach Riften from the west. Both ways would take about the same time, but the route through Falkreath was more practical. Although it would force me to cross the mountains, it would be far safer. On the open tundra, there would be nowhere to hide from by persuers, whereas in the woods of Falkreath hold, I would be far harder to find.

I just hoped the others were safe. But there was nothing I could do for them now.

I cannot say how long I rode for. For a time, I was aware of the sounds of furious voices and pounding hooves behind me, and once, a lightning bolt narrowly missed me. But gradually, by ducking and weaving through trees, crashing through rivers and doing everything within my power to confuse my enemies, I began to draw ahead. And finally, the sound of the foe faded.

I rode on for a while longer, just to be certain that I had made good my escape, then drew Ebony to a halt and listened closely. No sounds, except that of birdsong and the wind. I was in the pine forests of Falkreath now, and there seemed to be nobody about except for myself and Ebony. The realisation that I was separated from my Guildmates, with a ride of several hours between myself and Riften, hit me hard. I slipped from Ebony's saddle and collapsed with my back against the trunk of a fir tree. I had hardly ever felt so alone in my entire life.

For some time I stayed put, needing some time to recover my strength after the night's events. My mind drifted, and I might well have eventually slipped into sleep had it not been for a sudden sound that shattered the still night air and jerked me back into reality. The sound of a twig snapping under someone's foot. My hand dropped to my sword, though I was so exhausted I doubted my ability to fight.

A dark shape loomed up through the trees. Ebony gave a small whinny. I stepped forwards, lifting my blade. 'Who goes there?'

A familiar voice replied, heavy with disbelief. 'Gallus!'

I could see my own relief reflected in Karliah's eyes as she leaped down from Dusk's back and hurried towards me. 'Thank Nocturnal. I was beginning to think that the worst had happened.'

I smiled tiredly at her. 'As was I. It's good to see you. Did you see what happened to Vex and Bryn?'

The Dunmer nodded. 'The last I saw of them, they were both heading east, towards Whiterun. The Thalmor were still after them, but it looked like they were more or less safe.'

I let out a long breath. 'Thank the Divines for that. And what about you? You're not hurt?'

A dry smile flickered across her face. 'Mudcrabs will fly before I let myself fall to the Thalmor. A couple of them tried hitting me with spells, but they didn't succeed. And you'll be pleased to know that I took care of a few of them myself.'

I grinned at her, hoping my admiration was hidden. _It must take considerable skill to fire a bow and arrow accurately when riding a galloping horse._ 'Good for you,' I told her.

'Thank you.'

I studied our surroundings. 'We're still several hours away from Riften. Do you think we should head home, or try to find the others?'

The Dunmer only thought about it for a moment. 'If we wanted to find Brynjolf and Vex, we'd have to go back the way we came and across the plains. We'd probably never find them, and we could even put ourselves at risk of being found by the Thalmor again. You told them to head for home and that's what they'll be doing. We can't help them now. We might as well return to the Rift.'

I nodded, knowing that every word she had spoken was the truth, and yet reluctant to abandon my Guild siblings. 'Let's see if we can get to Falkreath. We can spend the night there; I don't think I've got the energy to travel all the way to Riften.'

Karliah nodded. 'I'll second that.'

We mounted again and headed off through the woods at a slow pace. I was uncertain where exactly we were, but I knew that we would find the town eventually if we continued to head in this direction. 'I suppose the others will probably stay in Whiterun for the night,' I muttered. 'The guards probably won't let the Thalmor in.'

'I don't think we need to worry,' Karliah told me firmly. 'The Thalmor aren't obsessive enough to bother chasing them all the way across the plains.'

'I hope you're right,' I said grimly, then forced myself to relax. Worrying would achieve nothing. 'They'll be fine as long as they stick together. I'm sure Brynjolf won't let anything happen to Vex.'

My companion laughed. 'Vex won't let anything happen to him, you mean. I pity the foolish Thalmor who tries to face her!'

I felt my face break into a smile for what seemed like the first time in hours. I would probably have laughed along with my Guild sister, had I not at that moment seen something that made me freeze rigid and pull Ebony to a halt.

I think that Karliah called my name, but I barely heard her. The rest of the world had faded away.

I blinked and looked again. It was still there. I had not been imagining it.

It was a dead tree, so warped and withered that there was little of it left. Many years ago, judging from the scorch marks that ran down its trunk, it had been ravaged by lightning and killed. But that damage was not what drew my eye. It was the marks near the base. Places where, a long, long time ago, the dead wood had been struck repeatedly by something blunt, creating a dappled pattern of pits and pockmarks.

The sort of marks, I thought numbly, that could have been caused by two children hitting it with hefty sticks.

I looked around, through the trees ahead. And I saw. I saw the clearing that had been opened up by the felling of a great pine tree. Saplings had sprouted around the edges, reaching up towards the light. In the centre of the grassy, open space, a crystalline stream shimmered in the red and silver light of the moons.

'Gallus?' Karliah said again, sounding wary.

The sound of her voice was like a rope pulling me back into the rest of the universe. A shaky breath escaped me as I gazed around, barely able to believe what I was seeing.

'I know this place,' I said hoarsely.

This was the glade. Our glade. Where I used to meet with Henja, back when I was nothing but a child, all that time ago.

Without pausing to give my Guild sister an explanation, I spurred Ebony into motion. I had driven her fast enough earlier when I was running from the Thalmor, but now I very likely travelled at an even faster speed, ducking under the branches that hung in my path as I sped through the woods. Part of me wanted to leave now, to leave my past buried behind years of dusty memories. It was no longer a part of me now.

But I had to see. I had to.

I broke through the last row of trees. And there it was. Standing tall in the open, exactly where it had always been, as if I had never left.

My family's home.

It somehow seemed to have a belligerent air about it. Or was that simply because I associated it with my father? I gazed at it as if I had been turned into a statue, unable to tear my eyes away. I had thought that I had left it behind forever, that day I had fled from it when I was only six years old. But now here it was. I had returned.

Karliah and Dusk emerged through the trees behind me. There was confusion on my fellow Nightingale's face, as well as a small amount of irritation. 'What was that about?'

I replied without looking at her. 'I was born here,' I said huskily. 'This is my home.'

Her eyes widened.

I jumped down from Ebony's back and, gathering up her reins, led her over to the door. Karliah followed quickly. 'You lived here before you came to the Guild?' she asked me.

I nodded. I remembered that she had asked me a little about my past some time ago, but I had told her nothing more than that I had run away from my family after I saw how different I was from them. 'I never thought I'd see this place again,' I murmured. 'I'm not sure I ever wanted to.'

Dropping Ebony's reins, I reached out and tried the door. It wouldn't budge.

'It's locked,' I said quietly.

Karliah looked around at the weed-choked garden. 'It doesn't look like anyone's been here for years.'

I gazed at the door. Should I turn and walk away now, and forget that I had ever been here?

But even as the thought occurred to me, I knew I couldn't, and I wouldn't. I would regret it forever if I left.

I pulled a lockpick from my pocket. A few swift turns was all it took to unlock the door. I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and glanced at Karliah. She gave me a small nod, as if reassuring me that she was right behind me.

I summoned up my courage and pushed at the door.

It swung open with a low, eerie creak. Breathing hard, my skin prickling, I took a tentative step past it. A million memories flooded my mind as I did so. I had stood here that day I had nearly been slain by the troll, the day that my father had struck me, giving me the scar on my cheek that still had not quite faded. I felt my fingers stray to it, and once again I felt the pain of the blow, and the feeling of rage and defiance that had exploded within me-

I swallowed, and took another step forwards.

I remembered all of this so well, so painfully well. Every door, every corridor, every flight of stairs. That door led to the servants' quarters, where our steward and my father's housecarl used to sleep. What were their names again? The steward was a Redguard... Rhaynas. I remembered now. And the housecarl was a Nord woman, Jaila. I remembered. I remembered it all.

I remembered where that staircase in front of me led to. On the first floor, turning left took you to my father's room, turning right to his study. On the second floor, there was Prosperus's room in the centre, with Marcella's on the left and mine on the right. And the corridor in front of me; that led to the kitchen, and to the dining room. I remembered it all so well, so why did it feel so strange, so alien to me?

From the soft, almost noiseless footsteps behind me, I knew that Karliah was following. Relief swept over me. I did not want to be alone here. I needed to have someone to help me face this.

'I should have known.' I tried to smile as I said the words, but found that I could not. And as for the sentence itself, it came out twisted and broken.

'Should have known what?' Later, when I thought on the events of that evening, I realised that Karliah sounded almost as frightened as I did. But at the time, so wrapped up was I in my own fear and dread that I did not notice.

I raised my arms, gesturing to the scene around me. 'I ran from this place a long time ago. I ran so far from it that I almost forgot about its very existence.' A bitter laugh came from me, a sound that I had never heard myself make before. 'I should have known that you can never outrun the past.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her swallow fearfully. 'Gallus,' she said, so softly that the word was barely audible.

'One more step and it will be your last.'

The voice came out of nowhere, cold, harsh and laced with anger. I knew instantly that we had been wrong, that my old home was not deserted after all. My hand flew to the hilt of my sword, and within a second it was drawn and glinting in the pale, weak light. I saw Karliah whip an arrow from her quiver and ready it, her movements deft and fluid. And a figure threw itself around the wall at the top of the stairs, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a bowstring being drawn back. In the gloom in front of me, a figure stood on the topmost step, their face hidden from my view, aiming an arrow at my heart.

'Back off, or I swear by Azura that you will regret it.' Karliah growled the sentence, and the black-feathered arrow trembled on her bow.

The stranger advanced a step towards us. 'I meant what I said,' came the voice - a woman's voice, and, I realised suddenly, one with a trace of fear in it. 'I have no desire to see bloodshed. But you have no business here. Get out of here, or I'll shoot.'

I saw Karliah open her mouth, ready to shoot back a retort - but I shook my head at her. Carefully, I raised my left hand, motioning for the woman to stay put, and slid my sword back into its sheath. Then I reached out my other hand and gently pushed my Guild sister's weapon down, until the arrowhead was pointing towards the floor. Karliah looked at me in bewilderment.

A strange feeling of calm acceptance came over me as I stepped forwards and held out my hands, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. And the words slipped away from me before I could stop them.

'But why would you want to shoot your own brother, Marcella?'


	32. Truth

**I am perfectly aware of that fact that this chapter is too long. But again, I couldn't have split it up. It would have been too disjointed. Sorry. I guess I just had a lot to say.**

**I am going to make quite a bold move in this chapter. It didn't occur to me until I was writing the last few paragraphs of the last one, which is why there were no clues towards it earlier in the story. (Bad story planning, sorry.) I wasn't sure about it, but it suited the story so well that I asked a few people what they thought of it, and they all said I should go ahead with it. So that's what I've done. To anyone who doesn't like it, sorry! I do my best to please everyone, but obviously I can't. You'll know what I'm talking about when you read it. :)**

**This is the last chapter of Book Three. I hope you enjoy it!**

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Slowly, infinitely slowly, my sister lowered her bow.

Even now, all these years later, I cannot say how exactly I knew that it was her. I knew that she simply _was _Marcella, in the same way I had known that the stranger I had encountered battling sabre cats in the wilderness the day I met Enthir was Henja. Perhaps I recognised the voice, even though it had been more than twenty years since I had last heard it. Maybe I caught a glimpse of the slate-coloured eyes behind her bow. Or it could have been simply that I felt that there was no one else it could have been, in this house.

The weapon dropped to her side, and I could see her face. That was when I knew beyond any doubt that I had been right. The last time I had seen that face, its bearer had been twelve years old, and those blue-grey eyes had been wide with fear as she watched me turn and run.

I had never thought to see her again. But here she was, standing before me, staring at me with blank shock on her face.

She shook her head. 'One of my brothers is in Cyrodiil,' she whispered, her voice trembling. 'And the other is dead.'

'Just because something cannot be seen, it does not mean that it does not exist.' Yet another of Dralsi's lessons. 'I left, Marcella, but I never died.'

Karliah's eyes flicked from Marcella, to me, and back again, 'Gallus-'

I held up a hand, motioning for her to stay silent. She nodded, and did not speak again.

Marcella looked as if everything she had ever believed in had been revealed as a lie. I knew that she must have heard Karliah addressing me by my name. I suddenly understood her disbelief - I had been six years old when I had left my home behind. No child of such a young age would be expected to survive in the wilderness of Skyrim - not unless they had help. I had been lucky. A group of warm-hearted Khajiit and the protection of the Daedric Prince of fortune had seen me through. But Marcella would not have known that. Of course she would have thought me dead. And now here I was, standing on her doorstep, alive.

'Impossible.' My sister sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. 'Gallus was six years old when he ran away. He could not possibly have survived.'

I could see her preparing to raise the bow again, and I quickly took a step forwards. 'Look,' I said quietly, running a finger along the scar that my father had made on my cheekbone. 'You know how I got this, Marcella.'

She kept staring.

Desperate now, I found words flowing from me. 'I could tell you where everything is in this house - or where it used to be, at least. I can tell you that our steward was a Redguard called Rhaynas, and our father's housecarl was a Nord named Jaila. I can tell you a thousand things that only I could know. Like the day that we went to Henja's house and found it empty, or the time you caught me after I broke into our father's study. I am your brother, Marcella. It's me, Gallus. I am alive, and I have returned.'

For a few more agonising moments, she simply stood and stared. Then her slate-blue eyes narrowed. 'What,' she said slowly, 'is the mistake relating to the Khajiit in the seventh edition of _Notes on Racial Phylogeny and Biology?'_

I very nearly burst out laughing, but I managed to stop myself. I could not, however, prevent a smile from creeping over my face as I replied. 'The book claims that the Cathay form of a Khajiit occurs during a waning Masser and a full Secunda,' I said instantly. 'Any Khajiit born during that time would actually be an Alfiq - the small quadruped breed. In truth, the Cathay Khajiit is born during a waxing Masser and a full Secunda. It's interesting to note how common the Cathay breed is here in Skyrim, especially when you consider that other varieties are more common in other areas - such as the Suthay-Raht having a strong presence in Morrowind, and the Ohmes-Raht in Daggerfall -'

Karliah gave me a smull nudge, and, realising that I'd been rambling, I quickly fell silent.

Her every movement slow and wary, Marcella descended the stairs towards me. Stepping down from the last one, she faced me, gazing right into my eyes. I looked back, feeling my heart pounding with my chest.

'Gods,' Marcella breathed. 'Oh, Gods above, Gallus, it's really you.'

I felt my smile widening. 'It's really me.'

A soft, strangled sob burst forth from her, and without warning she threw her arms around me. I held my sister close, closing my eyes as a feeling of bright, warm joy swept over me. If there was one thing I had ever regretted about leaving behind my home, it was abandoning Marcella. Even as I rose up through the ranks of the Guild, she had always been there, in the back of my mind. I'd soon found that I needed to truly want to remember my family if I wanted to bring them back so that I could picture them, and hear the sounds of their voices once again. But now I had found my sister again. And it was like finding a part of myself, one that I had never even realised was missing.

Marcella released me suddenly, holding me at arm's lengths as words started to bubble from her. 'Gallus, how in the name of the Divines are you still alive? You were six years old, for Mara's sake! And where have you _been, _I thought you were dead! We all did! Why haven't you come back before? And how did you get that sword, and all those scars? And who's your friend?'

Karliah - who I noticed with some relief had put away her bow - took it upon herself to answer the final question. 'Karliah Indoril,' she said quietly, dipping her head a little.

With a slightly wary smile, Marcella held out her hand. 'An honour to meet you,' she said in flawless Dunmeris, then seemed to register what my Guild sister had said. 'Wait, Indoril?'

Karliah nodded as she took the offered hand, looking both completely unsurprised that my sister spoke the Dunmer tongue, and also as if she slightly regretted saying her family name. 'Yes. I'm supposed to be a direct descendant of Indoril Nerevar.'

I couldn't help but feel a flash of admiration for the Dark Elf as she said the words. One of the many things that amazed me about Karliah was the fact that she never boasted about her noble ancestry. If anything, it seemed to slightly bore her. I remembered asking her about it once, and she had looked at me as if confused. _'It doesn't matter what my ancestors did, does it?' _she had said. _'I want to be remembered for who I am, and what I do.'_

I could see Marcella's eyes widen with awe. She was clearly burning to ask further questions, but she turned back to me. 'You'd better come in and sit down,' she said, her voice still laden with amazement. 'And you can tell me everything.'

The last sentence was spoken in a pointed way I remembered well. When my sister spoke like that, it meant that she was making a request that was in fact an order. 'Of course,' I told her.

We followed Marcella into the dining room - or what used to be the dining room. Now it was bare except for a table, an empty half, and a couple of warped chairs. Cobwebs clustered in the corners, but from the fact that a dusty broom lay leaning against the fireplace, it looked like someone had been trying to clear them away.

'No one's lived here in years, have they?' I asked, as I pulled out a seat for myself.

Marcella shook her head, sinking down into a chair across the table from me. 'No. Prosper and I moved out when Father died, to live with relatives in Cyrodiil.'

It was a strange sensation, what I felt then. It was the all-too-familiar punch that I always felt when I learned that someone I had known well had joined the Divines. And yet, though I instantly found my mind in a raging turmoil, and my insides seemed to turn to ice, I felt no pain. No grief. Just blank shock. I thought of how I had collapsed against a tree and stared wordlessly at the ground, tears welling up in my eyes and my heart aching, when S'resh had told me of Azhanri's passing. But now I just felt numb.

'He's dead, then.' The calmness of the words surprised even me.

Marcella nodded. 'Ten years ago.'

I nodded slowly, knowing that there was no point in speaking when I had no words to say.

'I'm sorry,' I heard Karliah say quietly.

'No need to be,' Marcella replied. 'Our father was...' She broke off, shaking her head. 'He was our father, but... we were never close to him, nor was he close to us.'

My gaze burned into the table as I tried to work out what I was feeling. I had never loved my father, never. But he had been my father. And now he was gone. I felt no sorrow, only shock. 'How did he die?'

Marcella hesitated. I saw Karliah glance swiftly between us. 'Would you rather I left you two to talk alone?' she asked, half rising from her seat.

I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn't mind her being there, then realised that it was not true. Karliah might be my Guild sister, but Marcella was my blood sister. And in truth, this was between my family. Not my adopted family of thieves, but the family that I had been born into. It was between me and the bone kin that I had left behind all those years ago.

I faltered, wondering if it would be rude to tell her that it might be best if she were to leave us alone. The Dark Elf saw my expression and gave me a small smile. 'You're too polite to say yes, aren't you?' Not needing any answer, she got to her feet. 'I'll wait outside.'

I waited until she had closed the door behind us before looking back at Marcella. My sister gazed at me curiously. 'Who is she, Gallus?'

I clasped my hands together and rested them on the table. 'One of the greatest friends I have,' I answered. 'And someone who I trust completely and think of to be just as much my sister as you are.'

Marcella nodded, then let out a quiet, shaky breath. 'I still can't quite believe that you're…' She shook her head. 'Gods, how are you still alive?'

'Are you glad that I am?' I inquired, raising my eyebrows.

She smiled at me - a warm, gentle smile that I remembered so well and had missed so much. 'Yes. Very.'

I chuckled. 'And I'm glad that I came back. Even if it was accidentally.' I ran my hands through my hair. 'All right. I'll answer your questions first, and then you can answer mine.'

My sister nodded slowly. 'That sounds like a deal.' She paused, then looked expectantly at me. 'So how in the name of Oblivion are you not dead?'

'A fair question,' I said heavily. 'And I'll tell you.' Looking carefully into her eyes, I added, 'But I think I should warn you now. It's a very long story and you may not like all of it.'

'We've got plenty of time,' Marcella replied quickly. 'And even if I won't like it, I want to know.'

'Then I'll tell you.' Resting my head in my hands, I began to speak as I dredged up the long-buried memories from the back of my mind.

'I don't think I need to tell you why I left. You know that. I just couldn't stay here, and I knew that whatever I faced out there would be better than what I was leaving behind.'

'I'm sorry, Gallus.' Marcella looked distraught. 'I should have tried to help you.'

'It wasn't your fault. There was nothing that you could have done.' I swallowed, remembering how I had stood calmly in the face of my father's fury, before taking flight – never to return. Or so I had thought, until now.

'I can forgive you thinking I was dead, because within a day or two, I very nearly was. I was attacked by a pack of wolves. I wouldn't have stood a chance against them, but I was rescued. A Khajiit caravan happened to be passing by, and they were just in time to save me.'

Marcella bit her lip. 'If I have ever said a bad word in my life about the Khajiit, then I take it back now.'

I grinned, knowing that my sister had probably never said a bad word in her life about anyone. 'I'd be dead for sure if not for them. They sheltered me and allowed me to stay with them for a while. I wanted to find Henja – you remember her, don't you?'

Her brow creased, and she seemed to think for a moment, before dipping her head. 'Jornn Snow-Walker's daughter. Your friend who went missing.'

'Who our father had sent away,' I corrected her. 'Anyway, the Khajiit told me that the next stop on their trading route was the city of Riften. They said that a lot of homeless people in Skyrim ended up there, and that if I wanted, they would take me there with them so that I could look around to see if she was there. And so that was what I did.'

'And was she there?'

'No. I looked all over the town, but nobody had seen her or any of her family. And that meant I had to survive alone in the city until the Khajiit caravan returned. And really, there's only one way for someone without a home or a family can survive there. There's a reason it's known as the City of Thieves.'

Marcella gave me a slightly pained look. 'Gallus, you didn't.'

I looked at her helplessly. 'What else could I have done? I had no one to turn to and nowhere to go.'

'You should have gone to the Honourhall. It's what it's there for!'

I gave a mirthless laugh. 'If you had ever seen that place, you would never suggest sending anyone there. It's not an orphanage, it's a prison. It's like they're trying to punish the children for not having any family.'

She looked shocked for a moment, then gave a small sigh. 'Well, I suppose you didn't have much choice. And you'd had some practice, hadn't you?'

'Guilty as charged,' I admitted. Knowing that I was reaching the part of the tale that she was most likely to be angered by, I drew in a deep breath. How was I going to tell her that I had joined a Guild of hated and feared criminals – that I was their leader?

'So you stayed in Riften for a while, and when the Khajiit came back, you went with them, I suppose.'

I scratched my ear. 'Well, not exactly,' I said edgily.

'Not exactly? What do you mean by that?'

Uneasy now, I decided to throw caution to the winds and tell her the whole truth. I had been through this once before, with Henja, and she had not reacted with the horror that I had expected. Perhaps Marcella would be just as understanding. And if she was not… then I could understand that, and I would not feel any anger towards her for it. In the eyes of most citizens, I knew, my life choices were hardly the most honourable.

'I spent quite a long time in the city, surviving by myself as best as I could,' I explained. 'And eventually, I was noticed.'

'Noticed? By whom?'

I swallowed. 'Look at my armour, Marcella,' I replied, my voice low. 'Think about what Riften is most infamous for, and tell me.'

She frowned, her eyes sweeping up and down my body, examining the dark leathers. And I thought about how I must look to her now: a tall young man, the scars of the myriad battles I had survived clearly visible, a beautiful but deadly-looking sword strapped at my side, with a dagger resting beside it. _I must seem like a complete stranger, _I thought. _No wonder she didn't recognise me._

I saw the blue-grey eyes suddenly widen. 'You joined the Thieves Guild?' she whispered, her voice taut with shock and disbelief.

I looked down at the table. My silence was my reply.

'You joined the Thieves Guild,' she repeated, but it was no longer a question. The pain in her voice cut me like a dagger to the heart. 'By the Gods, Gallus, why?'

I looked up, looking bleakly back at her. 'Because I wanted a family,' I told her softly.

'A family? The Thieves Guild isn't a family! It's nothing but a group of bandits!'

Had anyone else insulted my Guild in such a way, I would have been stung to anger. But I could not bring myself to feel any such bitterness towards my own sister. 'No, that's not true,' I told her calmly. 'I thought so too, once. When they offered me a place with them, I wasn't sure about it. Not at first. But then I met them, the other members, and I realised… they weren't evil. They weren't cruel in any way. The reason they were there, in the Guild, living the life they were, it was the one thing they all had in common. And that was that they were all breakaways, all misfits, all rebels. A lot of them were runaways like I was. But they were all people who just couldn't fit in anywhere else. People like me. For the first time in my life, I found myself with people who thought in the same way as I did. And more importantly, they were offering me a home. They would care for me.' There was a world of desperation in my voice now. She had to understand! 'I was seven years old and completely on my own. How could I have refused an offer like that?'

I saw some of the distress on her face fade. 'I... I suppose I can understand why you joined them, but...' She shook her head, clearly struggling to put her thoughts into words. 'They're criminals, Gallus! They're just as bad as the Dark Brotherhood, if not worse! At least the Brotherhood has some sort of code of honour - rules that stop them from going too far. The Thieves Guild are just-' She broke off, gesturing wildly with her hands. 'Just rabble!'

This did hurt me, more than anything else she had said so far, simply because it was not true. Part of what kept the Guild together was the bond that we shared, the knowledge that we were more than just a group of common criminals.

'We do have a code!' I burst out. 'We'd fall apart without it! We have rules that are just as strict as those of any other Guild in Skyrim!' I started to count them off on my fingers, reciting the mantra that Sereniel, Blade and Dralsi had drummed into me when I was a child. 'Never kill or seriously injure a citizen, unless to not do so would result in your own death. Never take more than necessary from anyone - definitely not enough to cause lasting damage to their welfare. Obey the orders of all those above you in the Guild, and respect the word of your Guildmaster over all. Do everything asked of you to the best of your ability. Be loyal to the Guild, and to all of its members, and never harm or steal from any of them.' I paused for breath. 'Breaking any of these rules, depending on the seriousness of the offence, will result in punishment. For serious incidents, members can expect to be charged with expulsion from the Guild, and quite possibly death. If that isn't a code of honour, I don't know what is.'

I folded my arms and waited to see how she would react. When she didn't speak, I continued. 'I know you've not been in Skyrim for some time, but answer me this. Have you ever heard of an occasion where the Thieves Guild - of any country - actually killed someone needlessly, or made it impossible for them to carry on with their life?'

She seemed somewhat surprised. 'Well, no.'

I sighed, looking down at the table again. 'I can't ask you to condone the choices that I've made, Marcella,' I told her. 'Not if it's not what you believe in. I know that my Guild has a bad reputation, and there's little I can do to change that. But that _rabble _consists of brave men, elves and beastfolk who have risked their lives at my side time and time again. I've never regretted the choices I've made. I could never have lived an ordinary life; I know that now. I could never be so normal and controlled, it would drive me mad.' I shrugged. 'Perhaps it wasn't the best path I could have chosen, but... it was the best one for me. I've always needed to walk my own path, to find my own way. And that's what I've done, and I know who I am now.'

She shifted in her chair. 'It's your life,' she said finally. 'Your choice to make.'

'But you don't agree with it,' I said flatly.

'How can I?' Her eyes pleaded with me to understand. 'Stealing is... wrong.'

'There no way to make you understand, is there?' I felt as if there were a stone inside my stomach. 'I could sit here for a year and a day, telling you what the Guild does to keep Skyrim together, and I wouldn't be able to change your mind. The thing is… you need to stop looking at us as a group of organised criminals, and start looking at us as people.'

Marcella frowned in confusion. 'What do you mean by that?'

'I mean that the Guild members are people no different to you in many ways. They're not the ruthless lawbreakers you think they are.'

'But they're thieves-'

'They're my family. And they're people.' I closed my eyes. 'Try looking at it this way. When I first joined the Guild, one of the senior members was an Orc. His name was Gurak gro-Damug and he had been a member of the Companions once. He and his best friend left once they found themselves unable to put up with the restricted lifestyle there, and they ended up in the Guild. He never used a weapon; his fists were the only weapons he needed. He was always kind and friendly to me, for no other reason because he was a kind and friendly man. He used to call me his little brother.' I smiled sadly. 'Gurak died when I was eight, battling a group of bandits. As he died, he made me and his apprentice Sabinus promise three things.' I counted them off on my fingers. ''Trust yourself, follow your heart, and never give up.' And then he died. And he wasn't a thief who broke the law out of spite. He was a person. He was my brother.'

I laid my hands back down on the table. 'And that's the Guild, Marcella. All of us are like Gurak. The moment you stop thinking of us as a bunch of people brought together only out of our will to break the law, and realise that we all have our own stories, our different reasons, for being there, our different motivations... that's when you understand who we really are and what we truly stand for. Gurak was just one. I'm another, and so is Karliah.' I nodded towards the door. 'We're all in the Guild because we're misfits, people who could never fit in with the rest of society. The Guild gives us a purpose, a common goal... somewhere to belong. Isn't that all that every mortal wants?'

When she did not speak, I began to wonder if it was hopeless, if there was no making her realise that my Guild was not how she thought it was. 'By the Nine, is there nothing I can say to make you realise that you're wrong?' I burst out desperately. 'Please, Marcie. Look at me. I know that it's been over twenty years, but I am still your brother. You know me. I know that I've grown older, but my mind is still the same. Would I ever give my alliegiance to people who did not deserve it, who caused nothing but harm?'

For a moment then, I felt like I was six years old once more. A frightened child, lost and alone, seeking for nothing more than approval from his older sister.

I waited, knowing that there was nothing more that I could say, feeling utterly on my own. I wished now that Karliah had stayed.

Marcella looked at me, slowly, searchingly, as if trying to look right into my soul. I gazed into the blue-grey eyes, seeing my own fear reflected in them. I had wondered for so many years if I would ever see my sister again. And now that I had, I feared that she would turn away from me. Why did it have to be like this?

And then she smiled.

Just that simple gesture, that tiny movement of her mouth, was enough to make hope spark within my heart, to make me feel as if a great weight had just been lifted from me. I sat up a little straighter, staring at her, trying to make certain that I had not imagined it.

I had not. She was smiling.

'You haven't changed, have you?' she murmured, amusement flickering in her eyes. 'Wise as an elf, quick-thinking as a Khajiit, stubborn as a Nord.' She shook her head. 'No. You haven't changed one bit. And the Gallus I knew would never be a member of anything that didn't do some good.'

A long sigh of pure, delighted relief escaped me, and I felt a smile of my own break into being on my face, which was quickly replaced by a sly grin. 'I'm glad to hear it. And by the way, I'm no mere member. I happen to be Guildmaster.'

'Really?' From the look on her face, I knew that she wasn't quite certain what to think of that. 'Um, congratulations.'

'Thank you.' I decided to move the conversation on to a slightly less uneasy subject. 'But that's enough about me. You know my story now. What's been happening in your life since I left?'

She let out a small huff of air. 'Nothing of any real interest. After Father died, we had to leave, of course. One of Mother's cousins in Cyrodiil took us in. So Prosper and I had to move to the Imperial City.'

I blinked, my interest piqued. 'The Imperial City? What's it like?'

'Like everything we read about in the stories when we were children,' she replied instantly. 'Grand, bustling and enormous. After a while, of course, I stopped noticing it, but when I first set eyes on the White-Gold Tower... it was the most incredible thing I'd ever seen.'

'I can imagine, I murmured. I had listened to this speech with wide eyes, feeling a few small stirrings of envy within me. I remembered how dearly I had desired to travel back when I was a child. I would have wandered Tamriel, seen the Tower for myself, along with many more incredible sights. But now my duty to the Guild bound me to Skyrim. I had no complaints about that; it was my home. All the same, though, there was a small part of me that wished I could still fulfil my childhood dreams.

'What happened to Rhaynas and Jaila?' With hindsight, it was an odd question to ask just then. But even if they had played a small part in my life, I wanted to know. I felt a little guilty now, for taking the Redguard steward and the Nord housecarl for granted so much when I had been younger.

If Marcella was surprised by the question, she didn't show it. 'Rhaynas went with us. He was still in the family's employ, after all. He returned to Hammerfell a few years ago, though. Jaila wouldn't leave Skyrim, though. I think she was going to either hire herself out as a mercenary or become a town guard. I don't know what became of her after that.'

I nodded slowly. 'And you and Prosper?'

She sighed and shrugged. 'Well, we grew up, just like any other children. Prosperus left after he turned eighteen. He became the steward of a Count somewhere. He's doing well.' She paused, twining a few strands of her hair around her fingertips. 'Gallus, I know you never really got on with him, but he missed you after you left. He said to me many a time that he wished he hadn't been so hard on you. He was only copying our father, really. He never meant to be cruel. I'm sure he'd tell you he was sorry himself if he were here now, so can I apologise for him?'

I closed my eyes briefly. What she said was true: there had never been any tenderness or feeling of kinship between Prosperus and I. We had simply tolerated each other because we'd had no other choice. But now that I remembered him, I realised that in truth I had loved him, deep down. No matter what else he might have done, he was still my brother. And Marcella was right when she said that it was only because of our father's attitude towards me that he had treated me in the way he had.

'When you next see him, tell him his apology is accepted,' I said finally. 'And... send him my best regards.'

'Of course.'

We sat in silence for a moment.

'And you? What have you been doing with your life?' I grinned. 'Something more socially acceptable than what I've been doing, I hope.'

A glimmer of pride sparked in her eyes. 'Oh, this and that. I've been travelling Tamriel a bit, and trying my hand at writing.'

I looked at her carefully. 'You've been doing more than trying your hand at it, or you wouldn't look so smug.'

A smirk flickered across her face. She reached beneath the table and pulled out a canvas bag. After searching through it for a few moments, she pulled out a thick, leather-bound book, which she placed on the table in front of me. Curious, I prised open the cover, revealing a the title page. _Travels Through Tamriel Book Four - Skyrim _was the title, written in neat, curly letters not unlike that of my own hand. Beneath that were the words _An account of a scholar's travels through the world, by Marcella Desidenius._

'It's the fourth in the series,' Marcella announced, pride burning in her voice. 'Or rather, it will be. The first three were based on my travels in Cyrodiil, Hammerfell and High Rock. After Skyrim, I'll be moving on to Morrowind, Black Marsh, Elsweyr, Valenwood, and finally the Summerset Isles.' She blushed and added, 'The series has been... very successful in the countries I've visited so far. I'm planning on setting out on my journey across Skyrim in a day or too - I only came back here for the memories, though I think I might stay the night, even though the place is a little run-down.'

'That's wonderful.' My smile was too big for my face. 'I'm sure this one will be a great success.'

'I hope so,' she chuckled. 'It's been wonderful, exploring Tamriel. All the people I've met and the things I've seen. Rhaynas was my guide when I was travelling Hammerfell, and he taught me so much about the Redguard way of life. High Rock was amazing, too. I found a Nord mercenary in the inn in Falkreath who's promised to show me around Skyrim. I know I was born here, but I know so little about the place. I thought it would be better to see it with the help of someone who really knows it. A true son of the snow, as they say.'

I couldn't help but think of Henja and Arnjar. 'I wish I'd known you were here earlier. I could have pointed you to some friends of mine who would have been perfect for that.'

Marcella shrugged. 'Well, Orthwin's strong, loyal and capable, and he knows his way around. I'm sure I'll be fine with him.'

My mouth dropped open. 'Orthwin?' I repeated incredulously. 'Is that a man with dark ginger hair, green eyes, and a scarred face?'

She blinked, looking taken aback. 'Yes. How did you know?'

I was unable to stop myself from bursting out laughing. 'I hope not to tarnish his reputation by telling you that he's an ex-Guild member. Tell him I said hello, will you?'

Marcella stared in astonishment. 'He was once a member of your Guild? He'd be the last person I'd expect to be in a group of thieves!'

'Oh, he didn't do any actual burglarly. We used to send him in when someone needed pushing around. He was a member of the Companions once, and Gurak's greatest friend. He left when Gurak died. He told us he was going to wander Tamriel and make a new life for himself. It looks like he did.' I saw her expression and felt my grin widen. 'Why so shocked?'

She spluttered for a few seconds. 'Well, he's just so...'

'Un-thief like?'

'Well, yes!'

I tried to stifle my laughter. 'He's not been a thief since I was eight years old. Don't let it spoil your opinion of him.'

She shook her head. 'It won't. It's just...'

'This is what I've been trying to tell you!' I was still quietly laughing. 'It's possible to be a thief and an honourable warrior at the same time, you know! I'm living proof- at least, I hope I am.'

She smiled again, even more widely this time. 'You are.' She nodded towards the book. 'I think you should look at the next page.'

My interest piqued, I did as I was bidden. There, in the same flawless handwriting, were two sentences that made my heart swell within my chest.

_For Gallus._

_Gone but never forgotten._

'Obviously, I'll have to edit that now,' Marcella added softly.

I looked up at her, unable to speak.

'I've missed you,' she said suddenly. 'I often wondered, back when I was younger... was there any way you could have survived? Where might you be, and what were you doing? Had you found a home, somewhere to be safe? Were you happy?' She shook her head, swallowing hard. 'But I always told myself that you had to be dead. And then I always ended up thinking that in a way, it was my fault, because I let our father treat you the way he did, and that was what drove you to leave. And I thought that I must have been the worst sister in the world, to have let that happen...'

Her voice, chocked and twisted with barely supressed tears, trailed off. I reached across the table and grasped her hand.

'Do not let me ever hear those words from you again,' I told her forcefully, looking directly into her eyes. 'I could never have wished for a better sister. You were not what drove me to leave, you were what held me back. There were many times I contemplated running away, and knowing that I would never see you again if I did was one of the few things that stopped me. It was only when I realised that I had no future with our family, that my path lay elsewhere, that I left. Nothing could have stopped me then. Marcie, I loved you as dearly as any brother could love his sister, and even through the years we've been parted I never forgot you. I have never regretted leaving this place behind, but you were the only person or thing that I missed. No matter what else may have happened, we are blood kin, and you were _not _to blame for the fact that I ran. And I am more glad than I can even begin to say that I returned when I did. For many long years I had wondered if I would ever see you again. Now I have. And I thank the Gods for it.'

We sat there for a few moments, just smiling at each other. There seemed to be no need for either of us to say anything more.

Finally, I broke the silence, asking the question that had been burning in my mind since the beginning of our conversation. 'Marcie... what happened to our father?'

She tensed instantly, her jaw clenching and her entire body recoiling slightly as if she had been struck. 'Are you sure you want to know?' she said quietly.

I stared at her. Within a single second, her entire demeanour had changed. What could possibly be so terrible about our father's fate?

'I have to,' I replied, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

She drew in a long, deep breath. 'The first thing you need to know is... well, I don't want to lower your opinion of him still further, but the person who asked for the Dark Brotherhood contract on our mother-'

I cut across her swiftly. 'It's all right. I already know. It was him.'

Her brow creased in puzzlement. 'How in the name of Oblivion did you find that out?'

I decided against telling her that one of my Guild brothers had once been a Dark Brotherhood assassin, and had known our mother's killer personally. I had only just managed to convince Marcella of the Guild's true nature, and I had no intention of ruining it. 'A thief tends to hear things that other people don't,' I said with a small shrug.

She nodded slowly. 'All right. But you don't know why, do you?'

'Why he asked for the contract?' I shook my head. 'No. That's been a mystery to me for many years. I know he loved her - or at least, he did once.'

There was an agonised expression in those blue-grey eyes now. 'I will tell you,' my sister promised. 'But first, you need to know how exactly our father died.' She paused, as if steeling herself. 'He took his own life.'

I do not know what exactly I had expected to hear, but it had not been that. My head reeled as if I had drunk too much mead in one go. 'What?' I choked out.

She dropped her gaze, tracing circles on the palm of one hand with her fingertips. I had often seen her do that when we were children. It was what she did when she did not want to tell me something. 'He drank poison,' she said blandly. 'He left behind a note for Prosper and I, explaining everything. And apologising. To us, to our mother, and to you.'

'Apologising?' I repeated disbelievingly. 'Him? To us? For what?'

She gave a small, tremulous sentence. 'Four questions in a single speech. You really haven't changed.'

'Marcie!' I burst out. 'What did the note say?'

I knew when she refused to meet my gaze that something was deeply and terribly wrong. Something told me that I was about to learn something that would change my life, and my entire world, beyond all recognition forever.

'It said that he was sorry that he was so wrong,' Marcella whispered. 'About our mother... and in a way, about you. He said that it was he who had our mother killed, and it explained why. And then he went on to sat why he'd hated you so much, and that he regretted that now that he'd driven you away and sent you to an almost certain death. He said that he had destroyed our family, and now the Divines could judge him in Aetherius... or in the Void.'

Her voice trembled on the final words, but I barely noticed it. 'Marcella,' I said quietly. 'Why did our father do what he did?'

She let out a strangled, despairing sound. 'But that's just it, Gallus!' she wailed brokenly. 'I can't keep it from you any longer. He wasn't!'

Utterly confused, I stared blankly at her. 'Wasn't what?'

She buried her face in her hands for a few seconds, and when she raised it again, it was streaked with tears. 'I'm sorry. 'I'm so, so, sorry,' she whispered, her entire body shaking. 'But he was never your father.'

It was as if I had taken a blow from a warhammer directly to my skull. Within a single sentence, a single second, my entire world imploded.

Even now, I do not think I can fully describe what I felt in that moment. It was many long years ago, after all, and I have buried that memory deeply. But ask yourself now – has there ever been a moment when everything you have thought to be true was suddenly revealed to be false, when your past and your present and your future collided, when you suddenly found yourself ignorant of your own identity? If so, perhaps you will understand how I felt as I heard those words. But if you have not, then I must describe it to you as best as I can, and even then I doubt that you will even begin to understand.

Imagine the ground vanishing beneath your feet, leaving you to fall through endless, unforgiving blackness.

Imagine being struck so hard and so fast that the world spins and your head reels and the pain is so fierce that it cannot even be felt, for you have nothing left to feel it with.

Imagine being frozen in ice, so thick and cold that your entire body is numb and the rest of the world seems shut off, and you cannot move or speak.

That was what I felt then. I sat without moving, for I had lost the power to move, and without speaking, for I had lost the power to speak. Suddenly nothing seemed real, and some small part of my mind wondered if this was a dream from which I would awaken at any second.

But it was not a dream.

And gradually, gradually, the full meaning of what Marcella had said hit home. He was not my father. The man who had beaten me, tormented me, made my childhood a living hell, the man who I had cursed a million times, simply for being my father…

… was not my father.

But how could that be? How was that possible? If he was not my father, who was? It was impossible, it could not be true, Marcella must be mistaken, she had to be-

Marcella, my sister, my _half-sister, _reached into her pocket and brought out a worn, folded piece of parchment. 'I've been carrying this with me for longer than I can remember,' she whispered, tears still trickling down her cheeks. 'Our mother told me to give it to you as soon as I thought you were old enough. She never told me exactly what it said, but… she told me that it would tell you the truth. So I think it'll explain a lot better than I ever could. And I'm sorry. I should have told you before. I just couldn't bring myself to.'

With a hand that no longer felt like a part of my body, I reached out and plucked the parchment from her fingers. My hands shook as I unfolded it and spread it out on the table in front of me. The letters were painfully familiar – they looked like a mix between my own writing and Marcella's. She even put a slight curve to her capital Ts in the same way as I did.

Slowly, my breath catching in my throat and my entire body trembling, I began to read.

_My dearest Gallus,_

_There are many things, my son, which I have kept from you for your entire life. I look at you now, a happy, carefree child who has only seen the passing of four summers, and feel a pain like a knife in my heart as I imagine the distress I shall cause you with the secrets I am about to reveal. I am your mother, and my duty above all else is to care for you. That is why I have hidden these truths away, for you are too young to understand them yet. It shall be many years until you are old enough and wise enough and strong enough to cope with this knowledge. Oh, you are wise for one of your age, and I often wonder at it. You are stronger than many other children of your years would be. But I know that many seasons must wither and pass us by before you are ready to know._

_Perhaps you wonder why I am putting these secrets down on parchment, which could be found and read by anyone. But I have had a strange feeling in recent weeks. I cannot understand why, but I believe my time on Nirn is drawing to an end. Iratus is furious with me, for reasons which I shall explain, and my dreams have been dark and trouble of late. Should my suspicions be confirmed, and my death be at hand, I cannot let this knowledge be lost. My dear son, though I know that what I am to tell you will turn your life upside down forever, you have the right to know. And know you will. Once I have written this letter, I shall entrust it to the care of your sister Marcella. Though she too is young, she is wise and careful, and I know she will not lose it. I can trust her to pass it on to you when the time is right._

_And now, I imagine, you are wondering what these secrets could be. Gallus, I cannot think of any way to break this news to you gently, so I shall simply say it, and pray that you will forgive me for not telling you before._

_Iratus is not your father._

_There. It is said. The truth has been revealed; the secrets and lies are out in the open now. My beloved child, I know that I have just shattered your world and changed your life beyond recognition, but please let me explain. For you have the right to an explanation._

_There is no way to avoid reality. It was my own fault. I was foolish, I was careless, I was not as wary as I should have been when travelling in Skyrim alone. Perhaps I simply thought that there was no possible harm that could befall me; not in such familiar surroundings. Iratus received a summons from the Jarl, asking for his assistance in an urgent matter. He was ill, and asked me to visit the Jarl in his stead, which is what I did. By the time the Jarl allowed me to leave, it was growing late, and I had no desire to make my way back through the forests of Falkreath at night. The irony is painful, for perhaps all would have been well had I simply braved the wilderness…_

_Well, there is no point in regretting anything now. I shall make the story as short as I can. I decided to stay in the tavern for the night. I had been there many a time before, but I noticed an unfamiliar face there that night. An Imperial man clad in dark leathers, brown-haired, brown eyed, with a sword at his belt and a roguish, cunning expression in his eyes. Though he intrigued me, I had no business with him, so I simply asked for a meal and a drink and sat down at a table away from him._

_And then… and then he caught my eye and approached me. He seemed to be drunk, terribly so. Our race, as you know, Gallus, does not have the same resistance to the effects of mead that the Nords can enjoy. He introduced himself as Arcanus. I have never forgotten the name. His presence made me uncomfortable. I asked him to leave me in peace; he did so, but… the damage was done. I can only assume that whilst I was distracted, he slipped some sort of potion into my ale._

_I remember nothing of the rest of that night, and of that I am glad._

_I learned some weeks later that I was carrying you, Gallus. I must tell you here and now, that I love you regardless of the terrible truth behind your birth. I always have and I always will, and never doubt that. I promised myself when you were born that though one day I would tell you who your father truly was, but that I would keep it from you until I thought you were old enough to know and be able to bear it. I kept it also from Marcella and Prosperus, and even from Iratus, fearing that they might say something to you and reveal it when you were not ready for it. But Iratus always suspected, right from the very beginning, that you were not his. You look nothing like him, after all, and sometimes, my son, I see a mischievous glint in your eye that reminds me of Arcanus…_

_I think that it is important for me to say that know nothing of who Arcanus was, where he came from, or what happened to him after that night. I can tell you nothing more about him than I have, and for that I am sorry._

_But on with my tale. Iratus always suspected that some other man was your father, perhaps because you were so unlike him in so many ways. And recently, he asked me simply whether or not you were his son. I could not lie to him. I love Iratus, despite how harshly he has sometimes treated you. I told him that he was not your father, and I would have explained about Arcanus – but he gave me no time. Since then, he has barely spoken to me. All I have managed to do so far is make him swear that he will not tell you, and that he will look after you even despite this knowledge. Oh, by all the Divines, how I wish I could tell him the truth and make him understand! I shall try again today to tell him all, but if I cannot… I fear you, Gallus, and for myself also._

_Be not ashamed of your parentage, my son. It is not our kin, nor our pasts, which make us who we are. All that matters is what we do. The choices we make, not the paths that others have taken, determine our destinies._

_If these feelings of dark things to come are indeed true, and the Divines have chosen this time to put an end of my years on Nirn, then I am sorry for everything. I beg you to live well and be happy. I will try to leave a note behind for Iratus, explaining the truth, in case I never get the chance to explain to him._

_I feel as if I should say more, but what else is there to say? Well, you know all now, dear Gallus, and I pray that you will forgive me for keeping this from you._

_But I will say one more thing. I do not regret what happened that night. Whenever I hold you in my arms and see you smile and look into your eyes, I know that I would not exchange you for anything. My son. My Gallus._

_May the Divines walk with you and light your path._

_Your loving mother, Perdita._

The letter slipped from my numb, frozen fingers, soared in a graceful circle in the air, before settling lightly onto the dusty floor.

Very slowly, I placed my elbows on the tabletop, clasped my hands together, and pressed my face against them. I felt like crying, but I could not cry. I stared at the wooden surface of the table without really seeing it, feeling as if every other mortal in existence had vanished without warning, leaving me alone in a vast, unfriendly world, a world where I did not belong. A world that contained no one but me.

Though my mortal body was on Nirn, in the house where I had been born, where I had spent my early childhood, my consciousness was not there. When I closed my eyes, I found myself standing on my own in the barren wilderness of my stricken mind. Lost and alone, no longer knowing what was true and what was false.

How could I ever believe anything that I was told again? How could I ever trust anyone who was close to me again?

Everything I had believed about my past… it was all a lie. My father was not my father. My father was a stranger who I had never met and never would. Even if I had hated the man who was not my father, I did at least know him. I could hear the sound of his voice within my head, and picture his face in my mind. But this man, this Arcanus…

He was my father. And yet he was even less of a father than the man who had brought about my mother's death. He was only a faceless stranger to me.

He was nothing.

And what did that make me?

Who was I, if my father was not who I had always thought he was?

Who was I, if _I _was not who I had always thought I was?

I sat there, every breath I took catching in my throat, wondering if this was how a tree felt when it was struck by lightning. A tree ravaged by the most powerful and unpredictable force of nature has its insides torn out within a second, and is left to smolder, a fragile, trembling shell of its former self.

That was how I felt then.

It seemed like a thousand years before I could summon the strength to speak. 'How much of this do you know?' I whispered, and my voice was so desolate-sounding that I could barely recognise it as my own.

Marcella, her eyes still shining with tears, gave a small shrug. 'Most of it, I think. I know about… the man in the tavern…'

Her voice faltered, and she lapsed into silence, staring at me, as if awaiting my reaction.

'How did you find out?' I said softly.

'The note that… he… left for us.' I knew why she hesitated. She had been about to say 'our father.' And then she had remembered that she had stopped pretending that he was. 'He explained that… that when our mother told him that you weren't his, he assumed that she'd been unfaithful to him. That was why he had her killed; because he loved her and couldn't believe that she had betrayed him.'

'And that was why he treated me the way he did, too,' I murmured. 'Because I reminded him of what he most wanted to forget. It was only the promise he made to our mother that stopped him from turning me out of the house. Or worse.'

Marcella nodded. 'He almost did once, the note said. Only a few days after… after what happened to Mother, he very nearly killed you. Do you remember the time when you had to stay in bed for a week after you fell downstairs and hit your head?'

'Vaguely,' I said bleakly, trying to summon up the memory. 'I can't actually remember falling.'

'That's because you didn't. Father… he almost hurled you out of the highest window of the house. At the last moment he remembered his promise and dropped you back on the floor. That was you were hurt. Somehow the injury prevented you from remembering what happened, so he pretended it was an accident.'

I closed my eyes. Some ancient, dusty memory, buried long and deeply, was rising up within me as she spoke. The feeling of cold air all around me and cruel hands gripping me. My own cries of fear and confusion. The sight of a dizzying drop below…

And suddenly, I knew why I was afraid of heights.

'Father found a note that Mother left for him one day,' Marcella continued. 'It said what happened, and he realised that he'd been wrong. So wrong. Wrong to have her killed, wrong to treat you the way he did… and I think he just couldn't bear it. That was why he killed himself. Death was easier than facing the knowledge of what he'd done.' She shook her head slowly. 'I think that believing that our mother betrayed him… it damaged his mind. He wasn't right to do what he did, but… I don't think he was quite sane any more, Gallus.'

I still had not lifted my gaze from the table. 'I know,' I replied, my voice a monotone. 'It wasn't his fault. I can't forgive him for what he did to me, but I understand now why he was driven to it.' A small, broken sound escaped me. 'It's practically the only thing I do understand right now.'

There was a pregnant pause. Then Marcella spoke again, and her voice was hard and firm. 'Gallus. Look at me.'

Surprised by the force with which she spoke, and so shaken that I could do nothing else but obey, I did as she said. I gazed into the depths of those blue-grey eyes, and saw a world of compassion and pity and love within them.

'This changes nothing, Gallus,' she told me decisively. 'It does not change anything about who you are, not to me. And it shouldn't change how you think of yourself, either. You are my brother, Gallus, even if we are not as closely bound by blood as we thought we were. Knowing who your father was – that doesn't make a difference to who you are. You still think and act in the same way. Your life is what you make of it. And as far as I'm concerned, you and I are bone kin and I care nothing for the fact that we have different fathers. You're flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood and _nothing _will ever alter that fact. Nothing.'

As I sat there, staring at her with wide eyes, she got to her feet and crossed to my side of the table. Sinking into the seat beside me, she placed her hands on my shoulders.

'You are who you want to be,' she whispered, still gazing into my eyes. 'And you are my brother.'

She wrapped her arms around me and held me close. I thought of what Karliah had said about how her ancestry meant nothing, how it was what she did that mattered to her. And I knew that Marcella was right.

And so I closed my eyes and let go of all my fears and doubts and troubles. Because what she said was true. I was who I chose to be, and that would never change.

For the first time since I had fled from this place all those years before, and despite the shattering truth that I had just learned, I felt a strange sense of fulfillment within me then. As if somehow, this meeting had made me complete. And so I let go of the rest of the world, and focused only on this moment of joy and safety with my sister.

We trekked back towards Riften slowly, speaking little. The sky was painted with the amber and golden lights of dawn, and birdsong echoed from the nearby forest. In the distance, I saw a herd of elk bounding away through the trees. It calmed me somewhat, to forget about everything else and gaze at the beauty of the morning. The rest of the world did not care who my father was. My troubles were nothing compared to everything else. I was as insignificant as could be.

Sometimes, at night, I looked up at the stars. Hundreds of thousands of millions of stars, scattered across the sky, burning bright and beautiful. I thought of other worlds that might exist somewhere out there, far from Nirn. If only a tenth of those myriad stars gave light and warmth to a world, and even if only a hundredth of those worlds nurtured life… even then, the amount of living creatures that there might be in this universe was staggering. Almost frightening. Compared to the vastness of the sky above me, and the secrets it contained… I was tiny. I was nothing. My life, my hopes and fears… they were as unimportant as it was possible for anything to be. It frightened me, but at the same time, it was amazing. It made my eyes shine just to think about it; about all the secrets that might be out there…

I glanced back over my shoulder, despite knowing that the place where I had grown up had already vanished behind the trees. We had stayed the night there, not wanting to return to Riften in the dark, tired as we were. At the first light of dawn, we had said our farewells to Marcella. It had pained me, to leave her behind so soon after finding her again. But I knew that I would see her again eventually. Now that we had finally found each other after so many years, we were not planning on losing each other once more.

I smiled as I remembered what she had said to me as we had departed. _'Remember, Gallus. You choose who you are and what you become.'_

I wished that I could have introduced her to Dralsi. The two of them would have liked each other. Marcella had got on well enough with Karliah, after all. After some initial suspicion, they had soon found that they liked each other enormously – perhaps helped, I thought with a chuckle, by the fact that Karliah happened to be the granddaughter of a legend, and Marcella had naturally been quite interested.

But light-hearted as I had tried to be from the moment I had awoken that morning, the knowledge that had been revealed to me weighed heavily in my heart. I knew that Marcella was right, that it made no difference to me or to anything else, but somehow… I felt something of a stranger to myself.

'A Septim for your thoughts,' Karliah remarked, her voice bringing me sharply back into reality.

I laughed, realising how distant and dreamy I must have seemed. 'Sorry. I just have a lot to think about at this particular moment in time.'

'I can imagine,' she said quietly. She hesitated, then added, 'You seem troubled.'

'I suppose I am,' I sighed. 'I... would you know what I meant if I said that I've found out something that I partly wish I had never learned, but which it was probably better for me to know?'

I expected her to tell me that she didn't have the slightest clue what I was talking about, but to my surprise, she nodded. 'Yes. I know completely what you mean.'

We journeyed on in silence for a few moments. And then I found myself speaking. Even now I do not know what drove me to say it. But somehow, when I was with Karliah, it was so easy to express my thoughts, to let my guard down.

'I've discovered that the man who I thought of as my father for years was not related to me in any way,' I said heavily.

Her eyes stretched wide, and she looked at me with a mixture of amazement and fright on her face. It was clear that she did not know what to say.

And suddenly I found myself telling her about my mother's death and who and what had caused it, and about how the man who was not my father had treated me, and about the faceless stranger named Arcanus. It poured out of me unstoppably. I think I just wanted to be free of it, to tell it to someone, to be rid of it all.

Karliah listened patiently and attentively, seeming to know that all I needed was for someone to listen, someone to care. And when I had finished, she looked at me with such kindness in her eyes that I already felt somehow lighter.

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly.

'Oh, don't be,' I told her, a smile flitting across my face. 'I suppose if it all hadn't happened, I'd never have been born, or joined the Guild. That's why I'm half glad that I found out.'

Karliah nodded. 'Sometimes, bad things happen,' she murmured. 'But good comes of them, in the end.'

I thought of Dralsi's death, and how it had led Karliah to become a Nightingale, and understood instantly. 'That's certainly true. I suppose I should be grateful.'

'Maybe. But even the benefits of such events don't make them any easier to bear.'

This time, when my smile returned, it stayed. 'I see you've become as wise as your mother.'

She gave me a wry grin. 'I like to think I've always been that way, actually.'

Gods, it seemed like centuries since I had last laughed. I was glad now I had told her everything. Despite what she had said, the painful knowledge was easier to bear, now that I had shared it.

'It's true that most of the hardships I have faced led to good things,' I mused. 'What troubles me is that I can't decide what is better; to have a father you hate, or to never know him at all?' An agonising thought struck me. 'My mother died when I was only four. I barely remember her. I never knew either of my parents, not truly.'

She bit her lip. 'Well, I can't say I knew my father. But at least I had many years with my mother.' She looked at the ground. 'I hardly know anything about my father. It always upset my mother too much to speak of him. She kept promising she'd tell me more about him when I was older, but she never did.'

I gazed at her for a few seconds, holding a thought in my mind and debating whether or not to say it out loud. Eventually, I decided that I should.

'I met Elrandor a few times, when I was younger,' I told her in a low voice.

She stared at me, not fully understanding what I meant at first. I could not stop myself from feeling guilty - it was unfair that I should know more about her own father than she did. But if she wanted to know more about Elrandor, then surely I had some sort of a duty to tell her what I could?

'Could you...' She broke off, looking uncertain, then swallowed and continued. 'Could you tell me what he was like?'

She spoke the sentence quickly, as if trying to get it over and done with as soon as possible, in case she ran out of the courage to say it before she reached the end. I smiled. 'Of course. I was only six or seven when I met him, but I'll see what I can remember.'

I let out a long breath. 'Well, he had black hair and the usual red eyes, and he was tall for a Dunmer. He was fairly strong, and clever, too. I suppose you have to be, if you're a farmer. He had a very strong Morrowind accent, much more so than you or Dralsi. And personally I think you've inherited his ears.'

She smiled.

I frowned, thinking deeply. 'He carried a war axe, in case he ever needed to defend himself or his family, but he seldom used it. I think he was a refugee from Vvardenfell, though I don't know whether he left after the eruption of Red Mountain or the Argonian invasion. He was a pacifist, though, and he hated the mention of war or bloodshed or slavery, which led me to believe that he might have been fleeing the Argonians. And he was a good cook, or so your mother told me. She praised his apple cabbage stew more times than I can count.'

Karliah gave a wistful sigh. 'I always hated apple cabbage stew.'

'He sang a lot, too,' I added, remembering suddenly. 'He and Dralsi. There was one that they invented together... something about birds and waves and stars. I can't remember it now.'

'I know it,' Karliah said instantly. 'It was one of my mother's favourites. She loved singing. She always told me that you could say much with a song that you could not with words.' She blinked back tears.

'I'm sorry I can't tell you any more,' I told her.

'No, it's more than enough.' There was a new light shining in her eyes now, as if what I had told her, little was it was, had given her strength. 'Thank you, Gallus.'

'Thank you,' I replied. 'For listening. And caring.'

She smiled, and I smiled back. There seemed to be no need for words.

Our horses bore us onwards, towards Riften, towards home. And as we went, I thought about all that had happened since we had fled from the Thalmor in Markarth. I had unearthed memories I had thought to be long since lost. I had learned truths that had been buried long, long ago.

So why did I feel so light now, so carefree? I should be tormented by what I had discovered. But I was not. On the contrary, I felt strangely elated. Had I not finally learned the truth behind why the man who was not my father had brought about my mother's death, and why he had hated me so much? Had I not found the sister I had loved so much and lost so long ago? What reason did I have to be unhappy? I knew I would never fully recover from what I had learned about my parentage. But I saw no reason to allow it to weigh on me. After all, as Marcella had so rightly said, it did not change who I was.

I was glad, so glad, that I had shared everything with Karliah. I knew that I could not have told it to anyone else, not even to Mercer. Speaking to her... it had made everything suddenly so much easier.

I felt my brow furrow. It was strange, how easy it was to talk to her. I had found the same in Markarth.

And suddenly I found myself thinking of the day that Pàdraig had died. Then, again, I had been weighed down by grief, and she had been able to comfort me.

And I thought of how quick to forgive me she was for Dralsi's death.

And I thought of every other time that I had admired her, for her wisdom and her spirit and her loyalty.

And as I looked at her, I found myself noticing things I had not noticed before. Such as the way the morning sunlight made her hair shine. Her near-constant expression of calm and contentment. And the beauty of those incredible indigo eyes.

I quickly looked away, and tried to shut down my mind, striving to focus on nothing but our return journey to Riften.

But I knew in my heart that now I had noticed those things about Karliah, I would never be able to stop noticing them.

I knew that I would never be able to look at her in the same way again.

END OF BOOK THREE


	33. Questions

BOOK FOUR - GUARDIAN

_Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same. _

- Flavia Weedn

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

_15th of First Seed_

_My life will never be the same again._

_I have so much to think about, and yet so little that makes any sense. So many quetions, and yet so few answers. Oh, I cover up my inner turmoul as best as I can, knowing that it would not do for the Guild to see their leader so uncertain of himself, so distracted. But I knew that everything has changed forever, at least for me._

_There is so much that I wish I knew, and I know so little. In my last entry in this journal I spoke of how I learned the truth behind my parentage. But since I arrived back at the Guild a few days ago, I have realised just how little I truly do know. I am floundering around in the dark, scrabbling to find whatever I can._

_I know that it hardly matters. Whether Iratus or Arcanus was my father, I am still the same person, the same Gallus. I am a thief, a citizen of Riften, a Guildmaster and a Nightingale. I am well aware of the truth behind the words of two wise sisters of mine, one a blood relative and one not. Just as Marcella and Karliah told me, I am whoever I chose to be. And I do not chose to be my father's son._

_I do not chose to be the son of either of my fathers - either my blood father, or the father who was never my father, the one who raised me to be a child who only felt safe in the shadows. Strange, though, that I hate him so much less now that I know the whole story._

_And yet... there is something that is preying on my mind, something that I simply cannot forget. It is the only thing that I do not yet know, and yet it is the one thing that I want to know more than anything else. Somehow I feel as if everything will make more sense once I know it, although I am certain that it will merely complicate matters even further._

_I have read and re-read my mother's letter to me a hundred times. Despite the terrible truths it contains, it is the only remaining link I have with her, apart from my own blood. And I have noticed something that I did not pick out the first time I read it. And now that I have seen it, I cannot forget it. It haunts my every waking moment. _

_I can recall my mother's description of my real father, this Arcanus, word for word_. 'An Imperial man clad in dark leathers, brown-haired, brown eyed, with a sword at his belt and a roguish, cunning expression in his eyes.' _That was how she described him. I can almost picture him in my mind, though his face is nothing but a blur. In my head, he looks something like me..._

_At first all I noticed about that sentence was his physical appearance. I wanted to be able to have some mental image of my father, even if I can feel nothing but cold dislike for him. And then I realised something. Dark leathers. This Arcanus, whoever he was, wore dark leathers._

_Of course, that means little. Many people wear leather armour - mercenaries, hunters, thieves and the like. But something tells me that there is more to this than meets the eye. Leathers so dark that my mother would take such notice of their colour belong to very few people. I can only think of two sorts of people who might wear such attire. Assassins of the Dark Brotherhood, and senior members of my own Thieves Guild._

_I sent a message to the Brotherhood almost as soon as I returned to Riften. I asked simply whether there was, or ever had been, a man named Arcanus among their Family. My old friend Silent's reply arrived this morning. No one with such a name has ever been a member of his Brotherhood, as far as anyone in the Sanctuary can remember, and there is no one who fits that description, either. And I have no reason to doubt his word- after all, I know for a fact that one of the Dark Brotherhood's sisters is a three hundred year old vampire, who can be trusted to have a good knowledge of recent members._

_Which leaves only the Guild. I know that in all probability, Arcanus was just a travelling troublemaker who happened to be wearing dark leather armour - but I cannot shake the feeling that there is more to it than that. My life and the existence of the Guild... they seem to be so tightly intertwined, woven so closely together that they cannot be seperated. _

_I must know the truth. I must. I have made my decision. I will ask Elandine whether she has ever known a man named Arcanus, or heard of him. She is least likely to ask any awkward questions. Ahsla may have been here a little longer than El, but she would ask me why I wanted to know, whereas Elandine would simply accept it if I told her that my reasons for asking were my own._

_Whatever I discover, I will at least learn the truth._

_That is one of my troubles. And the other... well, it is not so much as a trouble as a confusion. And I can sum it up in a single word, a single name. Karliah._

_What is it about that elf? I always admired her, right from the moment when I saw how skilfully and calmly she dealt with that guard on the day she came to Riften. But now I look at her with different eyes. And in truth, I think I have been looking at her with different eyes for a long time, maybe even since the day of Dralsi's death, when I made that promise to protect her. _

_But now everything has changed. Everything. I cannot stop noticing those things that I saw about her as we made our way back to Riften... Gods, now that I have seen them, I could fill pages of this book with them. Why did I never see it before? Her spirit... her beauty?_

_But I did see it, I think, though I did not appreciate it back then. For a time we were simply mentor and apprentice, and the only thing we had in common was our shared love of Dralsi, who was a mother to us both. And now I see her as a sibling as close as Mercer - but close, I think, in a different way._

_What did that promise do to me, that promise I made to Dralsi as she lay dying? I swore to look after Karliah, and so I have, but... _

_This will not get me anywhere, this chaotic listing of my thoughts. I must calm myself, or I shall never make sense of what is inside my own mind. The simple truth is that I have admired Karliah for a long, long time. It is only now that I have realised how deeply._

_I must be sensible. I must counter my problems one by one, step by step. 'Those that run fast are the first to fall,' Dralsi told me, very often. So I must be slow now, and careful._

_The first thing I must do is to speak to Elandine. I am not sure what, if anything I will discover. But I have to learn the truth. Now that I know part of it, I will not rest until I have chased down the final echoes of my past._

* * *

Elandine was in her usual place, bent over her enchanting table with her back to the rest of the Cistern. A steel sword rested on the table in front of her, and when I looked closer, I saw a slight purple glow about it, the telltale sign that there was some sort of enchantment upon it. Enchanted weapons and armour always shone an unnatural colour, depending on what type of magic was placed within it. A sword that ignited its targets on contact with them, for example, was always slightly warm to the touch, and the metal looked as if it were on fire from the inside. A frost-enchanted item was cold as ice, with a bluish-white tint. This one was probably a soul-draining weapon. I shuddered. I hated the thought of being soul trapped. To have my very life essence imprisoned inside a gemstone... And what became of a soul once its gem had been used? Did it continue to wherever it would have gone had it never been trapped? Or did something else become of it?

I shook myself, forcing the thought from my mind. I had more important things to think about. And anyway, soul trapping was necessary. Enchanting would be impossible without it.

As I watched, Elandine placed a trio of pale lilac gems on either side of the sword and placed her hands on top of the weapon, her green eyes closing and her palms glowing slightly. For a moment, the soul gems lit up brightly. And then the sword exploded without warning, creating a plume of purple smoke and an almighty bang that echoed around the entire Cistern.

I was quite used to such occurrences, so it didn't surprise me. Enchanting was a difficult art, and Elandine's experiments often went wrong. I had no idea what she had been trying to achieve, but whatever it was hadn't worked.

Furious, the Altmer woman slammed her hand down on the enchanting table, making the soul gems jump a little way into the air and the candle flames flicker. 'Damn you to Oblivion!' she shouted, seemingly at the table itself, before giving it a sharp kick. I had to grin as she achieved nothing more than to make her foot hurt, and swore furiously.

'It's an inanimate object, Elandine,' I called. 'Cursing at it isn't going to make the slightest bit of difference.'

The High Elf snorted. 'Perhaps not, but it's Gods-damn satisfying,' she hissed, kicking it again. 'I had it so close to working!'

'What?' I asked her, moving a little closer.

Elandine ground her teeth together in frustration. 'You know, of course, that when an item is experimented on to reveal whatever enchantment it carries, it's invariably destroyed?'

'Of course,' I replied instantly. 'It's part of enchanting. You can't avoid that any more than you can avoid the fact that if you want to learn the effects of an alchemical ingredient, you have to eat it.'

'Exactly.' The High Elf threw her hands into the air. 'That's the problem. It's a waste of perfectly good weapons and armour, allowing them to be destroyed like that. Only the other week, I had to choose between learning a new enchantment from a golden necklace set with diamonds or keeping the necklace and selling it. In the end I chose the enchantment. But what if I could have learned what magic was within the necklace, and still kept it in one piece? I'd have another piece of magic to use on whatever I fancied, and the Guild would have a valuable piece of jewelry to sell.'

I chuckled. 'That would be nice, but I'm afraid I can't see it happening, El. It's just one the of the laws of magic.'

'Laws of magic be damned! I want to get this right!' She brought her fist crashing down on the enchanting table with a loud thump.

'Well, if it's possible, I'm sure that you'll work out a way to do it eventually,' I told her, trying my best to calm her down. 'You're the best mage I know.'

She turned around, leaning against the wall and giving me a wry grin. 'You would be flattering me unless you wanted something from me, would you?'

I shrugged. 'Well, on this occasion I do happen to want something from you, but in fact, that statement was the truth.'

The corner of her mouth twitched into what was, for a moment, a rare smile. 'All right, then. What do you want to know?'

I drew in a deep breath. 'There's something I need to ask you about, but before I do, I need you to promise three things. Firstly, you won't talk to anyone else about it, no matter what the circumstances. Secondly, you'll answer truthfully and tell me everything you know. And finally, you won't ask me why I want to know.'

She looked a little surprised, but after gazing at me for a few seconds, she dipped her head. 'Sure, whatever. Fire away.'

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I had been right; Elandine wasn't one to question or to make things difficult for me. 'Listen,' I told her. 'This is important to me, but it doesn't really concern anyone else, so there's no need to worry yourself or anyone else about it. But was there ever a man in the Guild named Arcanus?'

I knew the answer before she replied, simply from the way that her entire demeanour changed within a second. One moment, she was leaning with her back to the wall, her usual expression of casual indifference on her face. The next, she was standing bolt upright, her emerald eyes wide with shock and suspicion.

'Arcanus?' she growled. 'What do you want to know about him for?'

She spat out the word _him _as if it tasted foul, or as if she simply wanted to get it off her tongue as quickly as possible. Feeling a new sense of dread within me now that my suspicions had been confirmed, I raised my eyebrows, and she glanced away as she realised that she had promised not to ask me that question.

'Please, Elandine,' I said quietly. 'I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark about my motives, but I assure you, I am the only person who could possibly be harmed by this. I have to know. Who is he?'

The High Elf stared at me through narrowed eyes for a few moments. Then, very slowly, she nodded. 'All right. I'll tell you all I know.'

'I want the truth,' I told her firmly. 'The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

'And you'll get it.' She folded her arms, shaking her head slowly. 'Arcanus… well, I'd better take you back in time, to a year or two before you came to join us. I guess that at the time you would have been four or five. I was a relatively new member myself – I'd only been a Guild member for a few years. I'd been on the run from the Thalmor for a while, so it was a relief to have a place of safety at last, and a new family. You can probably understand that, right?'

I nodded. 'Of course.'

She leaned back against the wall once more, blowing air out of the side of her mouth. 'Well then. There I was, junior member, feeling the same way as Mercer did when he first joined us – in awe of all the senior members, but too stubborn and independent to admit it or show it. And the senior members did deserve it. There was Sereniel, of course, and Blade, Guildmaster and Second even back then. And Dralsi, just the same as ever. As for the junior members, there was Sranys, Ahsla, Gurak and Orthwin, and a few more of our old friends. I respected all the others, and the seniors in particular. But there was one who I was never quite sure about. Oh, he was likeable enough most of the time, but there was just something about him I could never quite…' She gestured vaguely. 'There was just something about him,' she said again.

'Arcanus?' I predicted.

'That's right. Arcanus.' She sighed. 'An Imperial, like you. Smart, quick-thinking, loyal to the Guild. He was an expert swordsman, almost as good as Blade, and he loved a challenge. I never once knew him to back down from anything – be it a card game, a brawl, or a mission. He was a skilled thief, one of the best, there's no denying that. Ask Ahsla, and she'll tell you the same thing. He kept his blade, his wits and his mind sharp, and it paid off. He deserved to be a senior member of the Guild, and that's a fact.'

My entire body felt cold as ice as I listened to what Elandine was telling me about Arcanus – about my true father. 'But?' I asked her. 'There's a but coming, I can tell that there is.'

The Altmer woman huffed. 'Unfortunately, you're right,' she told me. 'Thing is, I quickly learned that Arcanus had – despite being an Imperial – had a Nordic upbringing. He'd spent his whole life in Skyrim. And you know what Nords are like. When they get something done that they're proud of, they've only got one way of celebrating. And it involves mead. Large amounts of it. Just look at Thjon or Brynjolf any time you want proof. Arcanus was exactly the same. Whenever he came back from a successful mission, he'd settle down in a corner of the Flagon and get drunk. Sometimes he wouldn't even wait until he got back to the Guild. He'd drop in on a tavern on the way back, and arrive back in Riften the next morning with a splitting headache. And of course, a thief's useless if he's got a hangover, isn't he? Sereniel warned him time and time again that he had to change his ways, and Arcanus kept promising that he'd stop. But he never did. I dread to think of some of the things he might've got up to when he was drunk about the rest of Skyrim.' She shuddered.

My gaze dropped to the floor. I knew only too well what Arcanus had got up to. One of those nights when he had stopped in an inn on the way back from an accomplished job was the night when he had met my mother.

'So what happened to him?' I asked, forcing myself to speak the words. I had to know the whole story. I had to. 'I've never heard anyone in the Guild even mention him, and he wasn't here when I arrived.'

Elandine's eyes grew cold. 'Damn right he wasn't here when you arrived. He was thrown out only a few months after I joined. And good bloody riddance. He could have been a thief whose name was honoured by the Guild for centuries, but in a single night of carelessness he threw it all away.'

My throat was so tight that I could barely speak. 'What did he do?'

My Guild sister was silent for a long moment, sorrow and anger swimming in her eyes. 'Do you remember,' she said finally, 'that Gurak had a younger sister?'

I blinked, taken aback. 'Of course. He mentioned her once or twice. Never spoke about her much. I think it upset him. All I know is that she was killed.'

Elandine nodded. 'Yes, that's all true. What I bet you didn't know is that her name was Agrub, and she was, for a time, a Guild member.'

'She was what?' I burst out, amazed. 'But Gurak always told me that he and Orthwin came to the Guild together. He never mentioned that his sister was with him, and neither did Orthwin!'

'That's because Agrub wasn't with them when they first joined,' Elandine said heavily. 'She arrived a few years later. She'd been trying to find Gurak ever since he left his stronghold to join the Companions, and she managed to track him down to the Guild. She was a cheerful thing – all smiles and laughter. She didn't care much about leaving her family to be with her brother, 'cause she was always the odd one out in her tribe. Pretty slim for an Orc, and far more skilled with a dagger than with a battleaxe or warhammer. She was a good thief, almost as good as Gurak.'

'But why did no one ever talk about her?' I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing. 'I've never heard her name mentioned in all the time I've been a Guild member – or Arcarnus's name, either.'

She snorted. 'I'm not surprised. Nobody wanted to remember Arcanus after what happened, and it was too painful to remember Agrub.'

I drew in a deep, long breath. 'What did Arcanus do to her?'

Elandine looked away, and I thought that I saw traces of tears brimming in those usually emotionless jade eyes.

'He got drunk one night, even worse than usual,' she said bitterly. 'We'd just got hold of a crate of a new type of mead that the Black-Briars were making. Powerful stuff. A Nord could handle it well enough, but not an Imperial. When Arcanus was that bad, he always flew into a rage. Usually we just kept out of his way when that happened, 'cause we all knew that he'd have calmed down by morning. But Agrub didn't know, poor girl. She was coming back from a mission of some sort. I think Sranys was with her. The two of them came back through the ratway entrance. The rest of us were in the Cistern, waiting for Arcanus to come back to himself.'

She paused, swallowing hard. 'I remember what happened, every detail. I was talking to one of my old friends, a Khajiit called Jo'vandiir. He was one of the best mages I've ever met, especially when you consider that members of his race aren't usually magic-users. He was telling me about the effects of different Illusion spells when we heard it. It was Agrub, screaming.'

She broke off, wrapping her arms around her chest. 'It's been years, but I can still hear that scream. So confused, so afraid. The door flew open and Sranys burst in. 'He's killing her,' he shouted, and we ran through into the Flagon… but by then it was too late. I know that Arcanus would never have done it, not while he was in his right mind, but…' She shook her head despairingly. 'Agrub used to tease him a lot. I guess that as she was walking back through the Flagon she made one of her usual snarky comments, and Arcanus just flipped. No one could have stopped it.'

I stood there, gazing numbly at the wall. So this was who my father was. A murderer.

'Gurak smashed him against the wall, knocking him out cold,' Elandine continued. 'When he sobered up later, he was devastated by what he'd done. He went to find Sereniel and told her that he accepted full responsibility, and that she was to do what she would with him. 'I took the life of a Guild sister, and if you wish to take mine in return, then so be it,' he said. Sereniel told him that it wasn't her choice to make, and asked Gurak to come forward. 'It was your sister he killed,' she told him. 'What do you think should be done with him?'

'Gurak looked at Arcanus for a long time, his arms folded, his eyes cold. They had always been friends, but Agrub and Gurak had been close as any brother and sister. I didn't know what he was going to say, not one bit.' Elandine closed her eyes. 'Finally, he said, 'Give me your sword, Arcanus.'

My eyes widened.

'Arcanus didn't have his sword with him; Sereniel had confiscated it. Blade went to fetch it. Gurak took the sword in his hands and snapped it in two as if it were a twig. 'Agrub would not have wanted any more death,' he said. 'I never want to see you again, and I cannot give you my forgiveness for what I have done, but I can and will give you your life.' And he walked away without another word.'

I could almost see the scene unfolding in my mind as the High Elf spoke. Of course Gurak had not killed Arcanus - he would never have done such a thing. 'So Arcanus was exiled?'

'Never to return,' Elandine confirmed. 'We never heard from him after that. Nobody really wanted to. Gurak was always strong, so he recovered quickly, but he asked us to never mention Agrub or Arcanus. So we never did. Nobody wanted to remember him. He could have been a great thief, and he threw away everything he had. He doesn't even have the right to be remembered.'

'That's not true, Elandine.'

For a moment, I couldn't work out who had said the words. It hadn't been me. Then I turned to see Ahsla standing there, her eyes filled with sorrow.

'Arcanus was not a bad man, Gallus,' she told me, her voice low. 'He made some bad decisions in his life, and he did some bad things. But that doesn't make him a bad person.'

Elandine raised her eyebrows. 'And Agrub killed herself, did she?'

'I'm not trying to say that any of the things he did were right,' the Redguard said firmly and calmly. 'I know you were Agrub's friend, and so was I. But Arcanus... he had his reasons for being the way he was.'

'And what were they?' I asked.

Ahsla sighed. 'He was brought up in the Honourhall.'

The Honourhall. The orphanage in Riften, where the children were treated like skeevers. So my father had been an orphan. He had grown up without his parents, just as I had. For the first time since I had first learned of him, I felt the beginnings of a connection with the man who had suddenly been revealed to be my father.

'He ran away when he was about ten or twelve,' Ahsla continued, and the connection grew a little stronger. 'Lived on the streets of Riften in much the same way that you did. I think that for a time he found work at the dock, but eventually he found his way to the Guild. He never talked about what had happened to his parents, and whatever it was had scarred him deeply. Maybe that was part of the reason why he drank so heavily. He was trying to forget.'

'It didn't excuse his actions,' Elandine snapped. 'Look at Gallus. He had a miserable excuse for a childhood too, but now he's Guildmaster.'

I shuddered, hoping that neither Elandine nor Ahsla realised just how apt her comparison of me to Arcanus was.

'Nobody's perfect,' Ahsla retorted. 'Of course that doesn't justify what Arcanus did. But I don't think it's right for you to denounce him like that. He was a loyal Guild brother, for a time. A lot of what he did was wrong. But it wasn't as if he did it without reason.'

Elandine folded her arms. 'I suppose there's something in that. But a murderer is a murderer.'

'Remember what Dralsi used to tell us?' Ahsla asked her gently. 'There is good and evil in everybody. Even the most merciless killer can show a shred of compassion at times, and even the kindest and most caring mortals can make cruel decisions. I do not believe that Arcanus had any evil in his heart. He was simply misguided.'

I listened to the conversation without speaking. I wanted so badly to believe what Ahsla was saying. Dralsi had said that exact thing to me many, many times. Could it be true, that Arcanus, my father, was not quite as bad as I had thought? I wanted it to be true. I hoped that it was true.

With a small snort, Elandine turned back to her arcane enchanter. 'Maybe,' she said noncommittally, and started gathering up soul gems in a brisk way that made it clear she did not want either of us to speak to her again.

I breathed in deeply. 'Thank you, Elandine,' I said quietly, then, turning to Ahsla, I added, 'You too, Ahsla.'

Before either of them could ask any difficult questions that I did not want to have to answer, I quickly turned my back and began to hurry away. I needed to be alone, to make sense of my thoughts, to reflect on all that I had learned. I knew where I would go. To the lake. It would be peaceful there, quiet and calm. Nothing to disturb me.

But before I reached the ladder that would lead me to outside, I became aware that I was being followed. I knew instantly that it was Ahsla; a thief must learn to be able to read the sounds of footsteps, and I recognised the Redguard woman's light, quick tread easily. I groaned mentally; all I wanted was to be left alone.

'Gallus,' Ahsla called.

I kept walking.

'Listen, I don't know why you were asking about Arcanus.'

I still kept walking.

'But I can guess.'

I stopped.

Ahsla approached me cautiously, studying my face as if trying to work out exactly what I was thinking. Slowly, I turned to face her, my heart thumping madly against my ribs. She gazed at me with pity and sorrow written plainly on her features, and I stared back.

A single look at the expression in her deep brown eyes told me all that I needed to know. She had indeed guessed, and I knew that she had guessed correctly.

I could not meet her gaze. My head fell forward until my chin was touching the base of my neck.

'How long have you known?' I asked, the words barely audible even to me. 'Or at least suspected.'

'I always thought you looked a little like him,' she replied. 'And sometimes I've seen you act in a way that reminded me of Arcanus. You have the same eagerness to face a challenge.'

A bitter laugh escaped me. 'I didn't know myself until a few days ago. I never even knew that he existed. But he was my father all along, even when I had never heard his name. And here I am, half a scholar, half a thief, in more ways than one.'

She took a tentative step towards me. 'It's not something to be ashamed of, Gallus.'

I lifted my head, looking at her bleakly. 'Isn't it?'

'Arcanus was a good man who lost his way. There are thousands of them on Tamriel,' Ahsla replied firmly. 'He did many bad things, but he also did many good ones.'

I glanced at where Elandine was still arranging her soul gems. 'She doesn't seem to agree with you.'

'Elandine didn't know Arcanus as well as I did, nor for quite as long.' The Redguard woman gave me a small smile. 'All she remembers of him is what he did to Agrub, but I remember more. Such as the time he saved my life.'

I looked at her in surprise. 'What?'

She sighed wistfully. 'It was not long after I joined the Guild. I was still in training. And Arcanus was my mentor. We were in Solitude, on a routine break-in mission. I, being clumsy as any beginner, accidentally knocked over something in the house we were in and alerted the people living there. We ran for the city gates, but the guards were after us, and they were shooting without much consideration for the fact that they didn't have any right to kill as a punishment for a failed theft. As I was opening the gates, an arrow came towards me. Arcanus threw himself in front of me and deflected it with his sword.' Her smile widened. 'He may have taken Agrub's life, but he gave me mine. I will always owe him my very existence, no matter what else might have happened.'

I had never thought that I would be able to feel proud of my true father in any way, not after all that I had learned about him. But I did then, even if it only lasted for a single second.

'Like I told Elandine, Arcanus did a great many things that were wrong. But he also performed plenty of selfless acts. Don't be ashamed of him, Gallus. I think he would be proud of you. And I think you can be proud of him.'

'Do you know if he's still alive?'

She shook her head sadly. 'I'm sorry, Gallus. I've received no word from him since the day he left the Guild. He could be alive, but he may not be. I don't think there's any way of knowing.'

I nodded slowly, unsurprised by the news. 'Tell no one,' I said. 'That's all I ask.'

'Have you forgotten what I owe you?' Ahsla replied, her eyes widening slightly. 'You kept my secret for all these years. I would never do so treacherous a thing as to reveal yours.'

'I know.' I did not doubt her word for an instant. 'And thank you.'

She gave me a final smile, then gave me a respectful nod and hurried away.

I watched her go, unable to name how I was feeling. There was still a part of me that loathed Arcanus, but there was also a part of me that no longer did. And I was glad that I had spoken to Elandine, and even more glad that I had spoken to Ahsla. It had helped.

As I stood there, I began to realise just how much it had helped. For the first time since I had fled from my family, that far-off day when I had been a mere six years old, I felt completely free from my past. I knew what had become of my brother, my sister, my mother, and the man who I had thought to be my father. My true father might be long lost, but I did at least know who he was. It was as if I had been bound for with invisible ropes which had only now been severed.

I felt so _free._

A smile crossed my face. I had been right when I had told Karliah that you could never outrun the past. But you can put the past at rest. And thanks to my Guild sisters, I had just done so at last.

I turned away from the Cistern exit. I no longer needed to head outside to clear my thoughts; they were perfectly clear already.

As I looked out over the underground chamber that had been my home for so many years, I saw Karliah standing at the archery range, her body poised and controlled as she released an arrow. I was not surprised to see it hit the target dead centre. I watched as the Dunmer drew another arrow from her quiver and sent it flying through the air to land directly beside the first.

For a few minutes, I simply stood watching her.

And then I made a decision.

I crossed the Cistern in a walk that was dangerously close to breaking into a run. 'Karliah,' I called as I approached her, trying to ignore the part of my mind that was screaming at me, screeching furiously that this was not a good idea.

She turned her head, saw me, and gave me a smile that made my breath catch in my throat for a second. 'Can I do something for you?'

_Yes. Tell me how it's possible for you to make me feel like this, _I responded in my head. _Do you even know what you're doing to me, Karliah? Is there any possibility, is there the slimmest chance, that I could ever make you feel the same way?_

That was what I would dearly have liked to say. But all I actually said was, 'There's a job that needs doing in Dawnstar, and I'm at a loose end right now. I was about to head off to deal with it by myself, but if you're free, would you like to come with me?'

I waited for her response, my heart hammering, and my mouth dry. I wished I knew whether I wanted her to say yes or no.

Her smile grew a little wider. 'I'm glad you asked. I haven't been out of the Ratways in days. I'd like to come.'

'Excellent,' I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. 'I need to get a few things together, so shall I see you at the stables in five minutes?'

She nodded, moving over to the archery targets to collect her arrows. 'Of course.'

As I hastened over to my desk to record in the ledger that this newest job was about to be dealt with, I found myself wondering about the wisdom of what I had done. Perhaps it had been too reckless; perhaps I should have thought it through more. And yet… I could not say that I was sorry that I had done it, not one bit. If I tried to shy away from these new feelings that I had for the beautiful Dark Elf, nothing would ever come of them. Yes, I had made the right choice.

For I had put my past behind me. My future lay ahead.

And I wanted more than anything for Karliah to be a part of it.

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***Sighs* I need to practice writing romance... IT'S SO HARD!**

**Agrub's story... I'm not even sure where that came from. It just appeared on the page. I hope you enjoyed learning more about Arcanus. I don't think Gallus's family will be playing any further part in the story, but they might, depending on how things go...**

**I'm just about to put up a new poll on my profile. I'd really appreciate it if you could take the time to vote - it's about a story that I may write soon.**

**We'll be moving back into the events of Indigo Nightingale with the next chapter. See you then! :)**


	34. Pain

**Back into the events of the prequel, then! Here goes!**

**And my spell/grammar checker is still not working, so I'm really sorry about any mistakes...**

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CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

A glass sword came slicing through the air, swung directly at my head. I ducked and brought up my own weapon to counter the attack, gritting my teeth as I dug my feet into the ground in an attempt to anchor myself to the spot. The two blades collided, and the impact of the meeting resonated first through my hands, then my arms, then my entire body. Narrowing my eyes, I strained against my opponent, trying to push his sword downwards. But the Nord was strong, far stronger than I, and I knew instantly that my efforts would be in vain. His cold blue eyes glittered coldly as he began pushing against my sword, and I could feel him beginning to force me backwards. My feet slipped, and a smirk flickered across the Nord's scarred, war-paint streaked face.

A moment later his smile vanished as I brought up my leg and slammed my foot into his chest with all the force I could muster. He gasped and staggered back, his breath knocked out of him, and I took the opportunity to lash out, scoring the tip of my blade across his unarmoured throat. An expression of acute surprise crossed his face, and he slumped to the ground, blood bubbling from his torn neck.

Breathing hard, I took a step away from the body and tried to take a moment to survey the rest of the battle. But I was given no time. A mace came crashing towards me out of nowhere, the face of its Breton wielder twisted into a snarl. Had it not been for my quick reflexes, formed from years of training in the art of swordplay, I would have been slain within seconds. Fortunately, though, my body reacted instinctively, and I found myself leaping out of the weapon's reach an instant before the mace struck me.

The Breton hissed with frustration as he saw that he had missed me, and lunged in again. This time, however, I was ready for him. Remembering the trick that Blade had taught me when I was ten, I brought my sword up, locking my blade with the handle of his weapon. From there, all it took was a simple and familiar flick and twist, and the mace was ripped from his grip and falling to the floor.

He had no time to wonder how I had managed to disarm him, for the moment the mace slipped from his grasp I knocked his arm aside and drove my blade into his heart. He let out a soft moan, staring at me in horror and agony for a few seconds, before going limp.

Even as I withdrew my blade from his chest, I felt a sudden, sharp pain lance through my back. I whirled around, lashing out randomly with my sword. It whistled harmlessly through empty air as my attacker, a Wood Elf man, drew back out of my reach, a sneer plastered on his face. As he swung his war axe at my stomach, I tried to block out the screaming agony in my body and piece together what had happened. He must have attacked me from behind, sinking his blade into my back. The wound didn't seem deep, though. My Nightingale armour must have absorbed the worst of the damage. Still, it sent aching waves of pure, fiery pain shooting up and down my body every time I moved. I took the risk of glancing around at the rest of the Hall. Mercer was nearby, battling three at once, his Dwarven sword flashing and whirling like a streak of golden lightning, keeping his foes from advancing a single step. Karliah had positioned herself with her back to the chamber that contained the armour stones, sending arrow after arrow into the ranks of the invaders. They were little more than a ragtag group of bandits who had stumbled upon Nightingale Hall and decided to see what they could find inside it, but inexperienced and unorganised though they were, they were a threat to the Twilight Sepulchre and as such, Nocturnal had summoned us to wipe them out.

They had proven to be a far more persistent and ferocious bunch than we had expected, though. I could see that Mercer had a vicious cut crossing his neck - had it been a little deeper, and whatever weapon had inflicted it would have ripped open his throat. Karliah, so far, had escaped any serious injury, but if the bandits continued to advance towards her as they were doing now, it would not be long before she, too, was wounded. And I knew that Mercer and I would have been dead already had it not been for her taking down bandit after bandit as they approached us.

The Wood Elf 's blow missed me narrowly, and I forced myself to concentrate. I could beat this man easily; he was nothing but an untrained brigand, and I was a Nightingale. I parried his next strike, and he attacked again. I blocked. He attacked. I knocked the axe away and thrust my sword towards his neck, but he withdrew quickly and swung his weapon yet another time. Neither of us could find an opening in the other's defences; neither of us could gain any ground.

'You'll soon regret your choice to cross blades with me!' the elf hissed, as I was forced to reel back two whole paces to avoid a particularly fierce strike. 'I am the best axeman in the Rift. No one has ever bested me!'

'Not yet, perhaps, but I will best you now,' I told him breathlessly. 'You could be the finest warrior in all the Holds of Skyrim and you would not stand a chance against me. I was trained by expert warriors!'

Seeing a sudden opportunity, I slashed down at his arm. He let out a howl as my blade tore through his flesh.

'Chosen by Nocturnal!' I snarled, and whipped my sword to the side, slicing right through the wooden handle of the war axe and sending the metal blade clattering to the floor.

'And raised by master thieves!'

I swung my weapon one final time, and the Bosmer dropped to the blood-stained floor of the Hall, never to rise again.

Finally able to catch my breath, I allowed myself the luxury of lowering my sword for a moment. My sides were heaving, and my limbs ached, but I knew that I could not afford to stop for more than a moment. My fellow Nightingales needed me.

My gaze flicked between my Guild brother and my Guild sister. The lull in the fighting gave me a chance to decide; did the Breton or the Dunmer need my help more?

That question was answered only a heartbeat later by the sound of Karliah's desperate cry. Another of the bandits, an Imperial this time, had managed to knock her bow from her hands. Now it lay uselessly on the ground at her feet. She had managed to draw her dagger, but the hand that held it was pinned tightly to the wall by the Imperial man, and though she struggled and writhed she could not break free. As I watched, my eyes wide with horror, the man drew back his sword, ready to strike the blow that would end the battle, the blow that would wipe the life from the Dark Elf's body forever.

Pure, unbridled fury rose up within me. For a moment, both my mind and my vision clouded. As I wrenched my Khajiit-made dagger from my belt and sent it hurtling through the air towards Karliah's attacker, I could only form one clear thought in my head.

_You will not touch her!_

The blade spun through the air, the black metal glinting. It struck the bandit in the back of his neck – exactly where Morvan's knife had buried itself in Padraig's flesh back at Silverleaf Redoubt all that time ago. The man crumpled instantly, a final, shuddering gasp tearing itself from his mouth. Karliah, now released from his grip, dropped to her knees beside him and punched her dagger down into his heart. His body convulsed, and then fell still.

The Dark Elf quickly pulled the weapon out of the man's torso, replaced it in her belt, and snatched up her bow. Before I had time to feel relieved that she was safe, she nocked an arrow to her bowstring, aimed it in my direction and shouted, 'Gallus, get down!'

I knew better than to question it. I threw myself flat on the ground without hesitation, and a single second later, Karliah's black-feathered arrow soared over my head. I heard a cry from behind me, followed by a heavy thump. Lifting m head, I saw that the Dunmer's shaft had taken another Nord directly through the throat. The bandit had been standing only a short way behind me; had Karliah not acted so quickly, his greatsword would have cleaved me in two from behind. It seemed that I had been rewarded for saving my fellow Nightingale's life by having her save my own.

A disbelieving shout came from nearby, and as I staggered to my feet, I saw another of the invaders, a Dark Elf, rush over to the fallen Nord and shake him urgently. When the man did not stir, the Dunmer cast a look of terror in my direction, turned, and fled like a startled deer, his feet sending up showers of pebbles as he went. His companions glanced at him as he went by, at first in confusion. Then they caught sight of the dead man lying stretched out on the floor of the Hall, and they, too, gasped with horror and broke away from the battle, some of them stumbling over their own feet in their desperation to escape.

I leaned against the wall with a low groan as the last of them vanished into the passage that led to the outside world. By Nocturnak's mercy, we'd been fortunate. It must have been their leader that Karliah had taken out.

'Nice shot,' Mercer called wearily, from the other side of the hall.

'_Lucky _shot,' Karliah corrected him ruefully, as she descended the steps. 'I didn't even have time to aim properly.'

'Well, it was nevertheless an accurate shot,' I told her. 'And it was one that saved my life.'

'The Dunmer bent down and pulled my dagger free from the body of the man it had slain. 'As yours saved mine. Thank you.'

She crossed the Hall and pressed my dagger into my hand. 'Thank you,' I replied, and I hoped she knew that I was not only talking about the dagger.

'If I never see another bandit in my life, it'll be too soon,' Mercer growled, clasping a hand to the wound on his neck. 'Anyone got any healing potions?'

We both glanced hopefully at Karliah, who laughed and dug into her satchel. 'I take it that by 'anyone,' you mean me.'

'What do you expect? You're the Guild's walking alchemy store,' Mercer replied, somewhat tactlessly, before tipping the entire contents of the small red glass bottle that the Dark Elf handed to him down his throat.

Karliah rolled her eyes and turned away from him. 'Are you injured, Gallus?' she asked, casting a concerned glance at me.

I swallowed, and for a moment I felt as if I had lost the ability to speak. Then, finding my tongue again, I replied hurriedly. 'Oh, no. Well, not badly. Only a small axe wound.'

She gave me a meaningful glare, the sort that I had come to recognise well. Receiving that look from her meant that she knew you were lying to her, and there was no point in keeping up the pretence. With a sigh, I turned around, allowing her to see the wound.

I heard her give a snort that somehow managed to be both disdainful and worried-sounding. 'By the Gods, Gallus, if that's your idea of a small wound, I'd hate to receive a big one.'

'He's being noble,' Mercer called, smirking. 'Or he's just embarassed that he was dealt it in the first place.'

I shot my old friend a withering look as I accepted a healing potion from my Guild sister. 'You know, I don't really feel like going back to the Cistern and explaining to everyone where we've been,' I remarked, hastily changing the subject.'

'I'll second that,' Mercer agreed. 'They're too damned inquisitive for their own good.'

'Perhaps we should stop at the Bee and Barb on the way back,' Karliah suggested, as she set about retrieving her arrows from the slain intruders. 'We can get ourselves drinks, relax a little and recover our strength, and come up with an excuse while we're at it.'

I grinned. 'That sounds like a sound plan to me.'

Mercer nodded. 'I could so with some mead. In fact, I need a lot of mead. Quickly.'

'We do have something to do first,' I pointed out, gesturing at the corpses that littered the Hall, and their faces fell.

We slowly and wearily began the painstaking and unpleasant task of dragging the bodies of the fallen bandits out of Nightingale Hall and into the open, for the scavenging beasts to find. I was relieved to see that there was no sign of any of their comrades who had managed to escape with their lives. _Good riddance, _I thought. _You have no right to enter this place. You have no right to even know of this place's existence._

As I returned to the Hall in order to remove another of the dead enemy, I found myself reliving the battle inside my head - one part of it in particular. It scared me, the feeling of unfamiliar, uncharacteristic and unstoppable rage that had come over me when I had seen that Karliah was in danger. And this was not the first time I had felt it, either. I had experienced it before, whenever she had been threatened.

I shot a swift glance at her as I continued through the tunnel. It was summer now, and a bright and beautiful summer it was, too. Many months had passed since Karliah had first begun to stir these unfamiliar emotions within me. I had thought - perhaps I had even hoped - that they would gradually fade over time. But I had been wrong. They had not. If anything, they had strengthened.

I thought back to that day long, long ago, when Fjella and Farmund had been married in the Temple of Mara. And I remembered the conversation that had been held between Mercer and I. The question that he had asked me. _'Can you even picture yourself falling in love with anyone? Or what they might be like?'_

At the time, I had not. I had been so much younger then, so much more naïve. I had never experienced the responsibility and the hardships that came with the position of Guildmaster. And I had never met Karliah.

The words that I had spoken all that time ago echoed in my mind. _'I don't think I've got it in me to value one person above everybody else. My first loyalty is to the Guild. I'm second in command here and if the Gods choose, I might be Guildmaster one day. How could I possibly feel more devotion to one person that much more than all the rest?'_

And that was what troubled me more than anything else. The very purpose of my being Guildmaster was to care for the Guild and keep them together – all of them. And that meant valuing every one of them equally. It simply wasn't right for me to care for one over all the rest! To be sure, there were those I liked more than others, some that I was closer to than the rest. Mercer, for example, had been my best friend since I was ten years old, and Thjon was almost like a nephew to me as well as a brother, seeing as he was Henja's son. And I had always felt a strong connection with Karliah, right from the start. How could I not, when she was Dralsi's daughter?

But this was different. Dralsi had asked me to look after her child, but I was sure that she could never have imagined that I would feel this way. This was… it was dangerous. To me, and to the rest of the Guild. Valuing her more highly than the others, attending to her safety before turning to the matters that affected the entire Guild as a whole…. That was not what being a Guildmaster was about.

And yet I simply could not help myself. Because these feelings, these emotions, were not at all unpleasant. Quite the contrary, in fact.

I just wasn't sure what exactly I was supposed to do about them.

* * *

The Bee and Barb is notorious for attracting people from every possible walk of life in Skyrim. Mortals of every one of the ten races could be found eating, drinking, talking and, from time to time, fighting within the homely wooden walls. In the many times I had entered the inn, I had seen an incredible variety of people inside – adventurers, thieves like myself, town guards hoping that nobody would notice that they were supposed to be on duty, Imperial soldiers, warriors from the Companions, mages from the College of Winterhold, Thalmor justicars sitting alone in the corner glaring at everyone else over their mugs of ale, and once, a man who had been clad in simple, unobtrusive attire, but who seemed to have been wearing dark red and black leathers hidden beneath it, and who had whispered into my ear as I passed - 'Camille sends his regards to you and your Guild.'

It had come as no surprise to me to learn that only a few hours after my brief meeting with the strange man, a close friend of the Jarl's who had been visiting the city had been found dead in the streets, with the Dark Brotherhood's handprint symbol daubed on the wall above him in his own blood.

Today, the tavern was mostly quiet. Apart from myself and my two fellow Nightingales, the only customers were a couple of workers from the Riften Fishery, an unfamiliar Nord man, who, judging by the fact that he carried a lute strapped to his back and a flute and a drum on his belt, was a wandering bard, a male Khajiit with dusky brown fur dressed in worn yellow robes, and a pair of young men, an Orc and a Breton, who seemed to be adventurers. The Orc was clad in the tough, cumbersome armour favoured by most of his kind. The Orsimer, after all, were expert blacksmiths, and it was reflected in the fine craftsmanship of almost all of the battle equipment that they made. The second was a Breton, dressed in slightly tattered orange robes. I wondered vaguely what might have brought them to Riften. If you disregarded the fact that an entire family of thieves dwelt beneath the surface of the city, it was a quiet place. It wasn't exactly the best place to be if you were looking for battles, quests and glory.

Interested as to what they might have to say, I found myself listening to their conversation as the Argonian innkeeper arrived with our drinks. The Breton seemed fairly eager about something; his Orc companion less so.

'I don't understand why you're so reluctant to believe it,' the Breton was saying, his voice high-pitched with excitement. 'Just picture what would happen if we actually made it through and found them. We'd be two of the richest people in Skyrim – maybe even in all of Tamriel.'

'That's exactly my problem,' the Orc snorted. '_If _we made it through.'

I frowned. What place might it be that they were speaking of? And what might be these items that would be worth such a great reward? Were they even items? They could be people.

'Isn't it work the risk? They would be worth an unimaginable fortune!'

I raised my eyebrows, my interest quickening.

The Orc shook his head despairingly. 'It's a legend, Phinias. They don't exist.'

'It's not a legend, Groth! Why would anyone want to dream up something like that?' The Breton slammed his hand down on the table, and his bottle of mead quivered. My ancestors delved into that ruin, and they would have found them, had it not been for the Falmer.'

_Falmer? _So they were talking about a Dwemer ruin, then.

'All they'd have found would be some cobwebs and mushrooms,' the Orc replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

'The Eyes of the Falmer are real!' the Breton burst out. 'Tales have been told about them for centuries. They're the most valuable jewels in existence. Think of the reward if we were to find them!'

My eyes widened. _The Eyes of the Falmer?_

I had heard of them. Of course I had heard of them, being both a scholar and a thief. Books written about the long-lost Dwemer told of the two vast diamonds, and all those who, like me, sought after valuables for a living, were certain to have heard the rumours, the legends, the speculation. There were so many tales that whispered of the priceless gemstones that the Falmer were supposed to have hidden from their Dwarven masters in days long gone by. If they existed, and no one was sure whether they did or didn't, then the Breton was right. They would be valuable beyond measure.

I had often wondered about whether it would be worth my time and energy to try and locate the Eyes, in order to go in search for them. Personally, I had always believed that they were real. But their location was a mystery to everyone. Everyone, it seemed, except for the two adventurers sitting only a few metres away from me.

My heartbeat quickening, I listened intently, whilst trying to make sure it wasn't obvious that I was listening. That was a skill that I had picked up over the years.

The Orc was shaking his head. 'Phinias, mate, we've been travelling together for a while now,' he said patiently. 'I'm happy delving into ancient Nordic tombs and wiping out bandits. But Dwemer ruins is where I draw the line.'

I felt Karliah give me a small nudge. 'Gallus. Mercer. Are you hearing this?'

Without looking up, I grinned at her. 'I'm hearing it,' I murmured.

Phinias and Groth were still arguing. 'But why?' I heard the Breton wail, clearly exasperated. 'Dozens of adventurers just like us have gone into them and come out alive. Nobody's ever made it out of Irkgnthand before, but why on Nirn does that mean we can't be the first?'

_Irkgnthand! _I felt like leaping to my feet and cheering. They had revealed the information I had most wanted to hear - the name of the abandoned Dwarven citadel where the Eyes of the Falmer were hidden. I had heard the name before - probably I had come across it in a book I had read. And I knew that it would be marked on the map of Skyrim that I kept in the Cistern, the one that contained the names of almost every place of interest that existed in the country. I could do it! I could find the Eyes of the Falmer!

'Phin, seriously. Two of us against Falmer, Chaurus, Dwemer guardians?' Groth looked pityingly at his friend. 'Have you lost your senses? We'd be dead in minutes. Remember what happened in Mzulft?'

Phinias hesitated, a sudden sober look coming over his face. 'That was... different,' he said, suddenly tense. 'We were much less experienced then.'

'We got Arjna killed,' Groth replied bluntly.

There was a short silence. For a moment, it seemed like the Orc had won the debate, but Phinias breathed in deeply and continued. 'Then the best way to honour her memory is to not let ourselves be put off by what happened to her,' he said evenly. 'Please, Groth. It's not even that long a journey, just west of Windhelm.'

_And now I even know whereabouts to look on my map, _I thought with satisfaction. _Thank you._

Groth squinted at his friend. 'Are you more concerned about the adventure or the money?'

The Breton shrugged. 'Both,' he answered. 'Come on, Groth. It would be the adventure of a lifetime, and they're as valuable as valuable can be!'

'You want us both to risk getting killed for the sake of two gemstones that may not even exist?' Groth asked with a groan, burying his face in his gauntleted hands.

Looking a little crushed, Phinias hesitantly shook his head. 'Well, if you put it like that…'

'Come on, Phin. It's just begging to get killed.' The Orc spoke a little more gently now. 'Let's leave it until we're more experienced and we've got more people on our side. Then maybe I'll think about it.'

'All right,' Phinias said heavily, looking away. 'I can see your heart's not in it. We could always try that place near Riverwood, Bleak Falls Barrow.'

Groth chuckled deep in his throat, sounding for a moment not unlike my old friend Gurak. 'Now that's a more sensible suggestion. And it's closer, too.'

The Breton glared at him with sudden suspicion. 'You're not just trying to make me feel guilty about wanting us to go to Irkgnthand because it's so far away, are you?'

'I'm not, promise. I'm just a lot more comfortable with skeletons that I can smash in a few blows than with Dwarven Spheres. I just can't forget had happened to Arjna.'

Phinias sighed. 'No, nor me. All right, then. Bleak Falls Barrow it is.'

Groth geld out his hand, and Phinias shook it.

I carefully set my drink down and turned to look at Mercer and Karliah. The Breton and the Dunmer glanced at each other. Then Mercer slammed his head against the wooden table.

'No, Gallus,' he growled. 'Don't you even consider it.'

'And why not?' I countered. 'I'm afraid I'm planning to do more than consider it, Mercer.'

'No, no, and no again!' Mercer raised his head, looking at me with a frustrated expression. 'We have more important things to do than go chasing after gemstones.'

Karliah looked at with mingled curiosity and amusement in her eyes. 'Isn't that what we do for a living, though?'

For a second, Mercer looked a little surprised, but he only let it show for an instant. 'That is completely beside the point. Gallus, I've always known that you have a suicidal death wish, but this is different.'

'I do not have anything of the sort,' I retorted sharply, keeping my voice in a low hiss in case either of the adventurers happened to pick up on what we were talking about. 'And you're not telling me that you want to miss out on a chance to venture into a Dwemer ruin - and get your hands on the wealth that's inside it?'

He hesitated for a second, then shook his head firmly. 'It's too dangerous. You can go off and get yourself killed if that's what you want, but don't expect me to go risking my own life too.'

I knew Mercer well enough to be certain that if I didn't convince him quickly, his stubborn pride would prevent him from ever coming round. He simply wouldn't want to give in, even if he had, in his heart, changed his mind. 'What in the name of the Divines has happened to your sense of adventure, Mercer? You never complaing about defending the Sepulchre, and that's just as dangerous.'

'You call taking out a few groups of bandits every few months just as dangerous as fighting Dwemer automatons?' His eyes narrowed. 'You can go if you want. But don't expect me to come.'

It was as if I had been stabbed in the heart. Never before had Mercer said anything that had pained me so badly. Oh, he had teased me plenty of times, and aruged with me occasionally, but never had he said something like this. What he meant was that he would rather stay behind in safety and leave me to risk my life, instead of going with me and risking his own life by my side.

I would never have done such a thing to him, nor would I ever have said anything to suggest it. How could I? Mercer was the greatest friend I had. Nothing could be so terrible a betrayal as letting him walk into danger alone. I would never have done that - never.

And yet... was he truly willing to do it to me?

'You don't mean that,' I whispered, feeling suddenly hollow and empty, as if someone had torn me open and ripped out my insides. 'You wouldn't.'

He folded his arms, looking defensive. 'I do mean it, and I would. I'm not just going to throw my life away for the sake of a couple of gemstones. I'm not going to Irkngthand, not now, not at any time in the future.'

I stared at him, shaken to the core. 'And yet you'd be willing to let me go there - alone?' I asked him, aware of how my voice trembled slightly.

He looked away, those green-grey eyes cold and hard.

'Not alone,' Karliah said softly, a look of steely determination creeping over her face. I glanced at her, and the emotions I saw in her indigo eyes made my heart jolt within my chest. Anger at Mercer's refusal to stand by me. Eagerness to seek adventure. Loyalty to her Guildmaster - to me. The way she looked at me, just for a single instant, was enough for me to forget the feeling of shock, hurt and betrayal I felt within me. For that one second, I felt as warm as if I had swallowed an entire flagon of one of those warm, spicy drinks that S'resh and the others of his Khajiit caravan made with milk and cinnamon in a single go.

It only lasted for a heartbeat. Mercer rose to his feet abruptly, slamming a handful of coins down on the table. 'I'm not going,' he said bluntly, and stormed towards the door to the inn.

Karliah and I swapped worried glances and followed quickly. We caught up with him as we passed the marketplace, and though he slowed his pace slightly, he did not look at either of us, nor even acknowledge our presence.

We walked back to the Cistern in silence. Despite my inner pain at what Mercer had said and done, I could not help but feel excitement take hold of me once more. If I were to find the Eyes of the Falmer and bring them back to the Guild, imagine what the others would say. And imagine the wealth of both gold and knowledge that would be hidden within Irkgnthand's depths...

None of us spoke until long after we had descended the ladder into the Cistern, and continued on through into the Flagon. I saw curious heads turn towards us as we entered, and I heard a few surprised murmurs as they saw the way that Mercer's eyes burned with hostility as he started to march away.

'Mercer, please,' I called after him. 'Come with us.'

He froze, stood still as a statue for a moment, then turned his head. 'I said no,' he spat.

'It'll be a quest like no other,' I pleaded. 'It'll be a Guild legend, told for centuries after our deaths. If you don't go, you'll be missing out on an honour greater than any other.'

He snorted derisively. 'Well, that just breaks my heart,' he said sarcastically. 'I'm not going.'

'Mercer, you're as bad as that Orc!' I burst out. 'We stand less of a chance of getting killed if you come with us.'

'No, no, and no again.' He brought his hand down on the bar as he spoke, and the heavy thud echoed throughout the suddenly silent chamber. 'Even if the things do exist-'

'They do!' I interrupted angrily. 'I've heard about them before, but I never knew where they were. If I had, I'd have gone after them long ago.'

'Gallus, listen to me,' he said, his voice low and fierce. 'We'd never make it all the way through with just three of us. And even if by some miracle we managed it, and it turned out they weren't there-'

'They'll be there,' I broke in.

'They won't,' he insisted. 'And anyway, who's going to keep the Guild in order if we go off on some wild goose chase after a pair of jewels that don't exi-' He paused, then, with a sigh, said, 'That may or may not exist.'

I stared at him for a second, feeling cold pain within me. I didn't understand. I knew that I could not give in now - the Guild would lose some of its respect for me for certain if I were to back out of something that I had made up my mind to do. Surely Mercer understood that? Surely he knew that it would be better for us all to go together?

But I could see in the frosty gaze that he gave me that he was not going to give way.

'Then you can stay behind and take charge,' I said quietly. 'And you can leave us to the Falmer.' I knew that it was a cold thing to say, something said deliberately to make him feel guilty, but I could not stop myself. Never before had I felt so betrayed.

'And you, Karliah,' I said, turning the to Dunmer, who had watched the exchange between Mercer and I without comment. 'What do you say? Are you coming with me?'

She did not hesitate for more than a second. 'I'm coming.'

I felt my heart swell with gratitude and relief. 'Are you sure?' I pressed her. Despite the fact that I wanted her by my side, I did not want her to put her life in danger if she was reluctant to do so. _If she does not want to go, then I will stay too, _I decided.

'Positive,' she replied.

'Then we'll leave at dawn. Anyone else who wants to come is welcome.'

Silence. No one spoke, though a few of them shifted uncomfortably. I felt like my insides had turned to ice as I saw that none of them volunteered. Not Elandine or Ahsla, who had both been my sisters when I had first come to the Guild. Not my former apprentice, Ma'rhaz, though from the way that Dar'zha was staring at his brother with anger in his eyes, the mute Khajiit would have stepped forward were his twin not preventing him from doing so. Not Thjon, my oldest friend's son. Not Delvin, or Vex, or Elruen, or Brynjolf. Not even Mercer. None except for Karliah.

I had given my life to these people. From the day I had turned seven to now, I had done nothing but work for the Guild. I had poured my heart and soul into them, striving to push them further, make them strive harder and aim higher. I had taught them, guided them, and kept them together, first as second in command and now as Guildmaster. If one of them had been in danger, I would have been the first to step forward and defend them. But now, when I prepared to go into peril myself, only one stood beside me. Only a single mortal out of all of my brothers and sisters was ready to risk their life for my sake.

My family. My own family were willing to let me walk into the jaws of death and do nothing to help me.

But I knew that there could be no turning back now.

'All right. If any of you changes your mind, you've got until tomorrow.'

But even as I said the words, I knew that none of them would. And I knew that I could not stay there any longer, with those guilty gazes upon me and that terrible, unbearable silence hanging in the air. I could not stand it for a second longer.

I whirled around, turning my back on the people who I had always thought that I could depend on forever, marching away from them without looking back, out of the Flagon, out of the Cistern, and into the cold, refreshing air of the city outside.

My feet carried me to the bridge that arched over the canal without my brain asking them to. I leaned against the wooden railing, gazing into the shimmering, murky water that lapped at the stone walls that ran beneath me. The moons and stars looked down on me from above and stared up at me from their reflection in the water below.

I saw my own face mirrored in the canal water, looking back at me with sorrow and pain clear in its eyes. Leaning further over the water, I regarded him with confusion. Who was he, this dark-eyed young man who gazed at me from below? How could I be who I had always believe myself to be, when it suddenly seemed that everything I had ever worked for was worth nothing? If the Guild was not prepared to do for me what I would always, always be ready to do for them…

I cannot say how long I stayed there, watching the water, before the light sound of footsteps told me of Karliah's approach. I saw her reflection appear in the water beside mine, and was uncertain whether to be delighted or unhappy that she had come to join me. On one hand, I was glad that I had someone to talk to, perhaps someone to whom I could explain how betrayed I felt. On the other, I was anguished enough already without the added problem of the tangled and conflicting emotions that always arose within me whenever I was in her presence.

Eventually, I decided that it was a good thing that she was there. It showed that there was at least one person I could rely on.

'Thank you,' I said, not lifting my gaze from the water.

She shrugged. 'Well, someone has to go with you.'

'I didn't just mean that,' I replied, though my answer was far longer in my head. _I meant, thank you for standing by me, for staying true to me, for everthing._

'I suppose someone has to keep an eye on the Flagon while we're gone. And it really has to be one of the three of us,' I said heavily, after we had stood in silence for a short while. 'We're Nightingales, after all, so it shouldn't be too hard for us to make it by ourselves. And Mercer doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to.'

She gave a small snort. 'That's considerate of you. Now tell me what you really think.'

I couldn't help but grin. Of course. If anyone was able to tell when I was trying to convince myself of something, when I was trying to put up barriers against my own emotions, then it would be her. Suddenly feeling restless, I scooped up a smooth stone and curled my hand around it. It was hard and cool against my skin.

'Really, I'm being a fool,' I said bitterly. ' I should have got this eager part of me under control a long time ago. And I can understand why he doesn't want to go. I can understand why none of them want to go. But…' I shook my head slightly. 'It hurts.'

I dropped the stone over the railings, watching as it turned over and over as it fell. It vanished into the canal, and the reflection of Masser swallowed it up.

'Because you hoped they were more loyal to you than that?' she asked.

I fell still for a moment, then sighed. 'Partly.'

'They're loyal to you, Gallus,' she told me fiercely. 'We all are. We always will be.'

'Oh, I know. None of them would ever betray me, I am almost certain of it. And yet…' I clasped the railing, lowering my head. 'I would follow them to Oblivion and back. I cannot help but feel wounded that only one of them is prepared to do the same for me.'

She looked at me with anguish burning in her eyes. Those incredible eyes. 'Gallus, they would. I'm sure they would. If Mercer of any of the others saw you in danger, they would help. They just…'

Her voice trailed away into silence.

'It's all right, Karliah,' I told her, though I knew it was not. 'It's not my place to ask them to risk their lives for me, and I'm being selfish. I'll get over it.'

'Nobody in their right mind would ever accuse you of being selfish.'

'If I was not, why would I be leading you into a place from where you might never return? Mercer's right. I have no right to ask you to come with me, nor any right to endanger the lives of others.' Angry at the world, at the Gods, at the Guild, and most of all at myself, I tightened my grip on the balustrade. 'It's a fool's errand. The Eyes can stay where they are.'

'No!' she burst out instantly. 'I'm not having that. I'm not having you giving up because nobody else thought they were up to it. You never give up.'

'Karliah…' I had never felt so torn in all my life. She thought that we should go, and that made my spirits soar. But to bring her, her out of all the Guild, into such danger... 'If something happened to you because I was foolish enough to lead you into a place of death, I would never forgive myself,' I told her. 'I can't risk it.'

'Gallus, I believe in you,' she said. 'I know that we can do this. We're Nightingales- Nocturnal will watch over us. If we didn't go to Irkgnthand, you know we'd regret it for the rest of our lives.'

'Please, Karliah.' I swallowed, distraught. 'Please stop. You're ripping me in half.'

'What do you mean?'

I could not stop my body from trembling. 'Half of me is saying exactly the same thing that you're saying. It's saying that it'll be an adventure, and we'll pull through it fine, and we've got nothing to worry about, and that I shouldn't take it to heart that nobody else wants to come.'

I lifted my gaze to the stars, my throat tight. 'And the other half of me thinks I'm insane. It agrees with Mercer. It's saying that if we go to Irkgnthand, we'll both be killed. We'll be slaughtered down in the darkness there and nobody will ever know. And it's saying that... that I've got no right to do that to you. It's impossible. How am I meant to win an argument with myself?' I clasped my head with both hands, closing my eyes as if hoping that I could shut out the rest of reality.' Sometimes I wish I'd never become Guildmaster,' I said bitterly. 'Or a Nightingale.'

'Gallus, don't say that!' Her vehemence took me by surprise. 'You're the best Guildmaster we could possibly have. You've always looked after us, no matter what. And we are all loyal to you. And you are loyal to us. But you don't have to be so loyal that you can't rise to a challenge every now and again! And you should be glad you're a Nightingale. Nocturnal looks after her own, right?'

Her words stirred something within me. It was a strange kind of confidence, one that I had not experienced before. Suddenly, somehow, I felt as if if she truly approved of this mission, this quest, then it would be right for us to go, and that if we went together, all would be well.

'Karliah, please be honest with me now,' I said quietly. 'Tell me. Do you think I should go, or not?'

I stared into those beautiful indigo eyes as I waited for her response, and I felt as if it would be a crime to ever look away. As if her gaze held me captive and would never let me go.

'Yes, I think you should go,' she murmured, and the sound of the words made me feel as if something warm and bright were burning within me. 'And I'm coming with you.'

Somewhere high above us, an owl screeched to the sky.

* * *

**Cliffhanger time again! ****Thanks for reading! ****XD**

**And again, I'm sorry for any mistakes. Without a spell or grammar checker, it's a bit tricky. Obviously I have proof-read it, but there might be some errors.**

**Anyway, see you next chapter!**


	35. Battle

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

_6th of Sun's Height_

_As a golden dawn breaks over the mist-shrouded mountains, I know that it is time to prepare myself for whatever this day chooses to bring my way. Excitement, adventure, danger, bloodshed, fear... even death. _

_Today is the day that I embark on my quest, my mission. It will be perilous, and I know that there will be many trials to face if I am to suceed. But I do not regret my decision to undertake this venture. I have been cooped up in the Cistern for too long; I need something to occupy me. And when this task beckoned to me... I knew I had to go._

_Last night, Mercer, Karliah and I visited the Bee and Barb on our way home to the Flagon, after a particularly brutal attack was made on Nightingale Hall. Not wanting to have to put up with the inevitable and awkward questioning we would no doubt be subjected to were we to arrive back home before most of our Guild brothers and sisters were asleep, we decided to stay for a while. And while we were there, I couldn't help but hear the conversation taking place at the next table. A conversation between two adventurers, and Orc warrior and a Breton mage. And they were discussing the Eyes of the Falmer._

_The Eyes of the Falmer, the most legendary treasure of the long-lost Snow Elves! Quite possibly the largest and most valuable jewels in all of Tamriel - two flawless diamonds, spoken of in many an ancient tome and thought to be long lost to the ages. But though their location was thought to be long lost, I have discovered it now. By listening to those two strangers in the inn, I learned that they are hidden in a Dwemer ruin called Irkngthand. I have heard of the place. Today, I will go there, and if the Eyes are indeed hidden within those ancient halls, I will find them._

_I will not, however, be alone. Karliah has agreed to come with me, and by each and every one of the Divines, I am glad that she has. Mercer refused to come, saying that it would lead to nothing but disaster. In fact, none of the others has offered to accompany us. I think Dar'zha wants to - it's the sort of dangerous and exciting mission that appeals to him - but Ma'rhaz is refusing to let him go. He is a little over-protective of his twin sometimes, and this is one of those occasions, but I suppose he can't really be blamed, after what happened to Dar'zha..._

_It... it was painful for me, I must confess, when none of them except for Karliah was willing to risk their lives for me. Not even Mercer, my oldest and greatest friend in the Guild, who I would die for a thousand times over. It shook my confidence in them, and in myself. Badly. _

_It was lucky for me that Karliah came to find me later. She was able to comfort me, to reassure me. She has helped to restore my faith in both the Guild and myself._

_And this morning, I have learned that she was right when she said that the Guild was indeed loyal to me. All of them have helped as much as they can to prepare us for our journey. My blade rests beside me as I write this. Mercer delivered it to the blacksmith earlier, and it is sharper than a dragon's tooth. What's more, it now glows with inner magic. Elandine enchanted it herself. Every successful blow on an opponent will absorb some of their life essence, healing me slightly and allowing me to recover some of my energy. A useful enchantment - in fact, I'm surprised I never thought to ask El to do it for me before. The Falmer will have to beware me now. I wield the finest sword in all Skyrim, I am sure of it._

_As for the rest of the Guild, they have been giving us as much advice as they can. We are nearly ready to set out, but I feel a thousand times more prepared for this quest than I did yesterday. _

_I have not yet really come up with a plan to get the two of us through the ruins safely. But I know what dangers we will be facing. For a start, there are the Falmer - ugly, twisted, feral creatures who will attack any who come near them. They are a sad race, in my opinion. It is almost painful to think that these blinded, deformed monsters are all that is left of the once proud and mighty Snow Elf people. _

_But the Falmer will be the least of our worries. Dwemer automatons, metal machines powered by soul gems, still guard Dwarven ruins as devotedly as they did in ages past when their masters walked those ancient halls. Their duty is to repel all invaders, even if they are destroyed in the process. There are the spiders; small, but persistent. There are the more powerful spheres, too, which are rumoured to be difficult for even the strongest warriors to destroy. If we are especially unlucky, we may run into a Dwarven Centurion. I have seen drawings of them. More than twice the size of a man, attacking their enemies with their enourmous fists and jets of burning hot steam... _

_Still, we are Nightingales. We have Nocturnal's protection, and I trust her to keep us safe. And are we not both strong fighters? I don't like to brag, but no one in the Guild but Mercer can ever beat me in combat practise. And Karliah's archery skills are just as great as her mother's, if not better. To make doubly sure of our safety, we will stop at Nightingale Hall on the way to don our Nightingale armour, to provide us with more protection - both from the armour itself and from Nocturnal, who may look more favourably upon us if we seem to be going to Irkngthand in her name. We will be more than a match for both Falmer and Dwemer._

_All the same, I wish Mercer were coming. Even now I still hold onto the hope that he will change his mind. But I know he's too Gods-damned stubborn. Much as I would like for all three Nightingales to make the journey to Irkngthand, I know that only two will go._

_I only hope that two will come back._

* * *

It was a long, long way to Irkngthand, and the road was dangerous. But we had at least chosen a fine day for our quest. The sun was warm and the sky cloudless, and it wasn't long after Riften vanished over the horizon that, despite my worries of the previous night, I found myself enjoying the journey. Ebony and Dusk trotted along smartly, their ears pricked, clearly glad to be out in the sunlight and able to stretch their legs. Their pleasure was contagious, and soon my fears about what was to come dropped away.

Even if it would have been better if Mercer had agreed to accompany us, it was wonderful all the same to be on my own with Karliah, especially since we were alone in the wilderness. She had been brought up almost at one with the world around her, and she pointed things out to me that I would never have noticed had I been alone. The pawprints in the mud that showed where a wolf pack had passed by a few hours earlier. The deep gouges in the bark of a pine tree, still oozing sap, where a bear had reared and raked its claws down its side to mark its territory. The small, speckled brown bird that I caught only a glimpse of before it was fluttering madly away.

'It's called a pine thrush,' she told me, as we watched it vanish amongst the trees. 'Shy creatures. My mother told me that they were omens of good luck to thieves.'

I looked at her in interest. 'I never heard her say that to me.'

'She said that because they're so wary of people, she often used them to tell whether or not she was being pursued,' Karliah explained. 'If you're hiding, and you see one, you can usually be sure that there's no one else in the area, because if there was someone there, the thrush would be long gone.'

'Well, it's good to be given a good omen,' I remarked. 'You seem to know a lot about nature.'

She shrugged, but the small smile that fluttered over her face at my praise betrayed her pleasure at the compliment. 'My mother taught me from a young age to pay attention to what the world could tell me. She said that it was essential that I learned to survive in the wilds on my own if I ever had to.'

'I hope you never do,' I said, and I meant every word. The thought of her alone in the wilderness was painful to even hold in my mind for a second. 'Skyrim can be a savage place.'

'I hope I don't either,' she replied. 'But never fear, I've no plans to leave the Guild. I wouldn't want to.'

I felt my smile widening involuntarily. 'And I'm glad to hear it.'

Trees, hills, valleys, mountains and rivers were passed as we slowly trekked northwards. Almost imperceptibly at first, the weather began to change, from the bright golden sunshine of the Rift to the chill of Eastmarch. As we neared Windhelm, I saw thick bands of ice-coloured clouds beginning to drift towards us. 'Looks like we're in for a snowstorm,' I commented.

It wasn't long before I was proven right. Within minutes, the air around us was thick with flying snow, and the sky was blotted out from view. The horses struggled on with their heads down, bracing themselves against the biting wind, every stride they took an effort, their hooves sinking deep into snow with every step.

In the distance, I saw the faint glow of lights through the white blur. 'Windhelm,' I called, pointing. 'We could stop there until it blows over.'

To my surprise, she shook her head firmly. 'I'd rather face the snow.'

I glanced at her in surprise - and more than a little dissapointment. 'Really? It's colder than the heart of a Dremora out here.'

'That city is no place for a Dunmer,' she said frankly, shaking her head. 'Not in daylight, anyway. Although even at night, I seem to wind up in trouble when I go there.'

She gave me a quick, meaningful grin, and I had to laugh, remembering one of our recent missions. We had broken into a house in the city in order to steal a priceless family heirloom. Everything had gone as smoothly as cream until, upon trying to exit the house via a window, I had missed my footing and fallen down to the street below - or, more specifically, onto the stomach of a drunkard who had been lying asleep beneath it. He had been useful in breaking my fall, but his usefulness had quickly come to an end when he started shouting for the guards. It had, without a doubt, been the most amusing mission I had ever experienced in all of my time with the Guild.

As we battled on through the howling clouds of snow, I took a long look at the distant lights from the town. What my Guild sister said was true; Dark Elves were not viewed kindly in Windhelm, and that was putting it mildly. So many refugees had fled there after the eruption of Red Mountain and the Argonian invasion of Morrowid, and the Nords had never been the most accomodating hosts to them. I understood Karliah's wanting to stay away. The few times I had been to the city in the presence of a Dunmer - be it Karliah, Dralsi or Sranys - I had seen more than a few scorching glares sent our way. Perhaps, after all, it would be better for us to keep going.

Fortunately for us, it soon became clear that we had made the right choice. As we continued onwards through the blizzard, the wind dropped, the snow slowly came to a halt. The sun broke through the clouds at last, its golden rays making the white blanket that covered the ground shine like silver. Dusk and Ebony began to quicken their pace. And soon, we caught our first glimpse of Irkngthand through the rows of snow-shrouded pines.

Just that first sighting was enough to take my breath away. Irkngthand's Dwemer architects had built it into the side of the cliff, its domed spires and turrets jutting out over the dizzying drop below. Winding stairways and wooden bridges led up the outer levels to the vast golden door that clearly led to the ancient city within. It was one of the most awe-inspiring and breathtaking sights I had ever seen in my life.

It was also covered in bandits.

That's all we need,' Karliah remarked as she dismounted. 'We come all this way, and the damn place is seething with brigands.'

I couldn't help but feel a little cheated. I had hoped that we would at least be able to get inside the ruins before we encountered any opposition. 'Are we sure this is it?' I asked. Remembering that we had taken a book that contained the ruin's location with us, I delved into Ebony's saddlebag and yanked it out.

'Yes, this is it. We're here. West of Windhelm, south of Yorgrim Overlook.' Karliah pulled the book from my hands, flicked to the right page, and pointed to the faded, hand-drawn map that it displayed. 'Right on top of the little dot that has Irkgnthand written next to it.' She gave me a wry grin. 'Did you fail to notice that or something?'

'Okay! I was just checking again to be sure!' I said hurriedly. 'It would be, to say the least, mildly irritating to reach the end of the ruin - and find it wasn't Irkgnthand after all.'

'Do you doubt my navigational skills?' she retorted.

My smile widened. 'How many bruises would I receive if I said yes?'

She let out a soft snort of amusement. It comforted me, the carefree teasing. It made everything seem so much more normal.

'This is most definitely Irkgnthand,' she said firmly.

'Well, thank the Divines for that. I was beginning to get saddle-sore,' I admitted. Even though I had been riding for years, such a long journey was enough to put a little strain on even the most experienced horseman.

Karliah readied her bow. 'Then let's get moving. It appears we have a bandit camp to clear out.'

We approached the ruins warily, slipping through the trees like phantoms. Even from a distance, I could see that there were several look-outs posted around the bandits' camp, gazing out over the surrounding woods. It was a miracle we hadn't already been spotted. I tried to count the others, most of whom were gathered around a fire, but it was impossible. It was lucky, I thought with a smile, that I had brought an elf along.

'How many?' I whispered, giving Karliah a small nudge.

She held up a hand and froze for a moment, the tips of her delicate, pointed ears twitching slightly. I looked again at the complex of domes and walkways, and wondered what it must be like to see them through an elf's keen eyes. I would be able to make out every one of those blurry, indistinct shapes of the bandits almost as clearly as if they were standing directly in front of me. And the sounds, too. Karliah must be able to hear so many things that I could not – the crackling of the bandits' campfire, the murmur of their voices as they talked.

Finally, she nodded in a satisfied way. 'I make it seven, but those are just the ones I can see and hear,' she informed me. 'There may be more.'

I carefully moved a little closer towards the ruin, then drew back as I caught sight of one of the men keeping watch turning in our direction. 'Could you take out that one?' I asked hopefully. It was an immensely long way to fire, but I had yet to meet a better archer than my Dark Elf Guild sister.

My hopes were crushed a moment later when she glared at me. 'You really do ask some stupid questions sometimes,' she snapped.

'Sorry,' I said hastily. 'I can see it's a tricky shot. I was just hoping-'

Before I could finish my sentence, she whipped an arrow from her quiver, drew it back, aimed, and fired. The shaft cut through the air like a streak of black lightning. I did not see it strike its target, but I did see the distant form of the bandit crumple suddenly, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and I saw the plume of snow that rose up as he hit the ground.

'Now that was quite a good shot, even if I say so myself,' Karliah remarked.

I think I probably stared at her for a full half minute before I finally found my tongue. 'Karliah, you may be a Nightingale, but I think eagle would have been more appropriate.' I shook my head in wonderment.' How on Nirn did you _do_ that?'

'That? That wasn't even tricky,' she said casually. 'See him?'

I had to squint at the ruins for some time before I finally made out the man she was pointing at. To me, he was nothing but a speck. 'All right, Karliah. I'm impressed, honestly. But there's no need. Nobody could get that one; he's much too far -'

Again, the Dunmer fired wordlessly, seemingly without even having to look at her target. I was just able to catch sight of the bandit slipping from his position and tumbling down the side of the tower.

'Nocturnal's mercy,' I choked out, staring at her. Gods, this woman was incredible. 'The Falmer are going to have to watch out once you get inside there.'

She responded with a quick smile. 'I don't want to go for those ones around the fire,' she told me, lowering her bow. 'They're too close together. It'd be better to pull this off by stealth, if we can.'

'Agreed,' I said. Slipping out from my hiding place, I started to creep towards the ruins, around the side of a tower that had fallen and half-crumbled many years ago, lodging itself upon a pile of rocks and forming a strange sort of tunnel. Ahead of us lay a wide iron gate, with no obvious opening mechanism. _There must be a lever nearby, _I thought.

'If we tried to get that gate open, we'd alert the whole pack,' I pointed out. 'We'll see if we can find a side way up.'

I hurried under the fallen tower, then paused, seeing what lay ahead. A heap of rocks nestled on the ground in front of a stone stairway, leading to a snow-covered walkway. A man stood on the walltops, facing away from us as he polished the blade of his sword. If he were to turn around, we would be spotted instantly.

'If we jump over this pile of rubble, I think we can get to those stairs,' Karliah hissed.

'Indeed we can,' I agreed. One problem.'

I pointed at the bandit. Karliah didn't hesitate before firing a third arrow. It struck him in the centre of his chest with enough force to make me wince. The thought of such sudden death swooping out of nowhere…

The bandit, dead before he could cry out, slumped backwards and rolled down the steps, gathering speed until he hit the bottom and lay still, the snow around the place where he had hit the ground slowly turning scarlet. Karliah retrieved her arrow in a matter-of-fact sort of way, and we started up the steps.

The bandits had made their camp near the edge of the parapet, and were seated around it in a circle. We were not quite close enough for me to hear whatever it was that they were saying, but for now, they were engaged in their conversation and hadn't the slightest idea that we were there. However, it was blindingly obvious that there would be no way to pick this lot off through stealth. Once one of them was down, the rest would be alerted. My fingers slowly started to curl around the hilt of my sword.

Karliah seemed to have reached the same conclusion. 'How do we get past that lot?' she muttered.

I could already feel my heartbeat quickening in anticipation. 'I've got a plan.'

She blinked, looking a little surprised. 'You do?'

I carefully drew my sword, trying to make sure I made as little sound as possible as I did so. 'Yes. Improvise.'

Amusement flickered in her eyes. 'Sounds good to me,' she shrugged, slipping an arrow onto her bowstring. She took aim, then fell still as a statue for a brief instant, picking out her target. A heartbeat later, the familiar _twang _of her weapon was ringing out in the freezing air.

The bandit closest to us, a powerfully-built Nord, was still halfway through his sentence when the black-feathered shaft hit home. His words turned to a strangled gasp. As his comrades looked on in confusion and surprise, his hand closed around the arrow that now protruded from the base of his neck. A low, trembling groan was drawn from him as he slowly toppled backwards. The shaft of Karliah's arrow splintered as he struck the ground.

'Really!' I stepped out into the open, shaking my head in disapproval. 'Couldn't he have fallen the other way? That was a waste of a perfectly good arrow!'

For a few moments, the bandits sat with both their eyes and their mouths wide open, staring at us in astonishment. Clearly they were having trouble understanding how two complete strangers could have the audacity to walk straight into their camp and kill one of them directly in front of them.

After a few seconds of stillness, they seemed to catch on, jumping up and rushing us with their weapons readied.

'Half for you and half for me?' Karliah called, tugging another arrow from her quiver.

I lifted my sword, and the sun gleamd on the blade, making it look almost as if it had been forged from pure light. 'Seems fair!' I replied.

An Orc woman was nearing us, her face twisted into an ugly mask of hatred. Orsimer looked fearsome at the best of times, but even more so in battle. And yet I held my ground, watching her approach until I decided she was close enough for me to make my move. I darted towards her, bringing my blade down in a flashing arc. She lifted her own weapon to block mine, and they met with a resounding clash that echoed off the walls of the ruin. My sword cut cleanly through the centre of the Orc's like a knife through butter. Before she could even fully register what had happened, I lashed out again. The tip of my blade scored across her throat, tearing it to shreds.

Even as her body collapsed, I felt something collide with my stomach. Glancing down, I saw an arrow rebound off my dark armour and bury itself in the snow, its crude iron tip bent at the end. 'How about a lesson in decent aim?' I heard Karliah shout, and I saw another of the bandits cry out and fall.

There was only one of them left now, a young Bosmer, who seemed to have lost his taste for the battle now that his comrades were lying slain in the snow around him. He whirled around and dashed for the stairs in a panic. I saw Karliah's hand fly to her shoulder, reaching for an arrow, but I took off after the Wood Elf before she could bring him down. 'You've had six already!' I called to her as I reached the stairs. 'This one's mine!'

The Bosmer was sprinting at full speed towards the entrance by the time I reached the bottom of the steps. Knowing that he was too far ahead for me to be able to catch up with him before he escaped the ruins, I quickly tossed my sword into my left hand. Then I whipped my ebony dagger from my belt, took careful aim, and threw. An agonised cry ripped from the elf's mouth as he twisted in mid-stride and crashed into the snow, my knife having buried itself deep between his ribs. In a few strides, I crossed over to where he lay gasping on the ground, his eyes wide with terror.

Wordlessly, I knelt beside him and raised my sword. A wordless moan escaped him, and he shut his eyes tightly, knowing what was coming. A wave of pity swept over me. He was little more than a boy. But I knew that if I were to let him live, he would have gone on to bring death to other innocent people. And at any rate, he had little time left anyway. My dagger had seen to that.

But despite my knowledge that he had to die, I knew that I had a duty to my fellow mortal to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible. I gently placed one hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. 'Go in peace to the halls of your ancestors,' I murmured, and brought down my sword, severing his neck in a single swift movement. The Wood Elf's frantic struggling ceased instantly, and I rose to my feet and returned to where Karliah waited for me without looking back.

'That was easier than I'd anticipated,' I said casually, although casualness was the last thing I felt at that moment.

Karliah nodded in agreement, and pointed to the way up to the doors of the ruins. 'Onwards and upwards?'

'Onwards and upwards.'

A series of walkways and wooden bridges no wider than my arm granted us passage to the entrance. Walking along the solid Dwarven stonework was easy enough, but I found it difficult to block out my fear as I struggled across the narrow bridges. Every step we took made them sway from side to side madly, and I felt as if at any moment I would overbalance and fall to my death on the jagged rocks below. There would be no surviving such a fall. I tried to imagine that the bridge was only inches away from the ground, and that if I fell I would hardly even graze myself. It didn't help.

Finally, though, we found ourselves back on solid ground. This was a much larger parapet, and only a few short walkways stood between us and the doors to Irkngthand. My heartbeat quickened. At last, we were nearing our goal – although once we were actually inside the ancient city, the truly difficult part would begin.

The sudden glimmer of firelight caught my eye. I turned to see something that I had not noticed previously – a tent, nestling against the side of the stone wall, another campfire next to it. I frowned. Why would there be a separate fire here? And more important, was there anyone inside that tent?

'Does it look like anyone's in?' I asked quietly.

Before Karliah could even open her mouth to answer, a man exploded from the tent with the force of a charging bull. Sunlight flashed off the surface of his thick iron armour as he barrelled towards us with his battleaxe lifted high above his head, his furious bellow splitting the air.

_If that was supposed to be an ambush, it was hardly a very subtle one, _I thought, rushing forwards to meet him. He had the edge here – he was half a head taller than me and twice as brawny. What was more, with an axe that large and long he could slice me in two long before he was within reach of my blade. But I knew that I was faster and more agile. I just had to find a way to use that to my advantage.

One of Karliah's arrows found its mark as the bandit charged towards us, sinking deeply into the flesh of his arm. Yet the man did not even falter. 'Tell you what,' he snarled. 'You start running so I can stab you in the back.' I saw him readying himself to strike and leaped backwards, seconds before the battleaxe cleaved the air exactly where I had been standing only half a second earlier.

'The thing about bandits is that they never pay heed to their own warnings,' I shot back, sweeping my blade downwards and managing to open up a narrow gash on his leg. A few drops of blood spattered onto the snow.

His face twisted with pain and loathing. 'Son of a – '

He never finished his sentence. The final word became an incoherent yowl as another arrow shot out of nowhere, its vicious point piercing the back of his hand. His body lurched backwards and the axe slipped from his grip. For a single instant, his neck was exposed, and that was all the opportunity that I needed. A swift jump to bring me up to his height, and a swing of my blade – that was all it took. For the second time within ten minutes, I felt my sword sink into the flesh of a man's neck, cut cleanly through the bone, and emerge on the other side.

I lowered my bloodstained blade and paused for a moment to catch my breath. 'I hate doing that.'

'Decapitating bandits?' Karliah asked from behind me.

I shook my head. 'Killing. Any killing.' I knew that I could never voice such thoughts to anyone else – except maybe to Mercer, who would only laugh at me. 'If these men and women had chosen a life of honesty and decency, they'd still be alive.'

'We're thieves, Gallus,' she laughed. 'Who are we to preach to anyone about choosing a life of honesty and decency?'

'You could put it that way,' I said with a shrug, replacing my sword in it sheath. 'And since we're thieves,' I added, gesturing to the campfire, 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

She followed my gaze, and I saw her eyes light up as she saw that there were a few pieces of meat cooking on a spit above the flames. 'I'm thinking that this looks like Mr Bandit Chief's dinner,' she said with satisfaction. 'And I'm also thinking that it's now ours.'

After the fast-paced battle and the long, tedious journey, we both seemed to feel that we deserved some rest. The meat was good, if a little on the scorched side, and it was with considerable pleasure that I found a few bottles of Black-Briar mead within the bandit chief's tent. I knew, though, that it would be most unwise to take more than a little, so I forced myself to leave most of it untouched. It was not until the daylight was just beginning to fade that we decided to move on, for fear of having to stay within Irkngthand overnight if we failed to make a start quickly.

After all that I had heard and read about it, when I finally found myself pushing the doors to the Dwemer citadel open, it was suddenly hard to fully appreciate the fact that the long journey and the battle with the bandits had not been for nothing. That we were here, that our quest was truly beginning at last. Excitement coursed through me, fierce and strong.

The entryway to the underground city was vast, a sprawling cavern almost the size of the Cistern. The stone and metal walls had crumbled in places, but the place had lost none of its grandeur. What, I wondered, must this place have been like in the days of yore, when its Dwemer architects had still roamed these halls? I

'I can hardly believe we're actually here,' I burst out, as we crossed the chamber and began to head down the corridor that led away from it. 'After everything I've heard about it...' I shook my head in disbelief. 'It's almost too amazing to be real.'

Karliah's face was grim. 'Amazing it may be, but from what the others have said and what was in those books, it's going to be dangerous. The twins said these places were packed full of Falmer, and Chaurus, and those machine things... antimonopolies, or whatever they're called.'

'Animunculi,' I informed her with a grin. 'Steam-powered mechanical automatons. The Dwarves invented them to guard their ruins, and even though their masters are long gone, they continue to protect the ancient Dwemer halls. The most common is the Dwarven Sphere. Apparently those are actually the ones you have to look out for, because they're tougher than the smaller Spiders and faster and more manoeuvrable than the far larger Centurions, which are easy to take down from long distance.'

She shivered, and I had a feeling that the coldness of the place was not the reason. 'Have you ever seen one?' she asked me.

'No,' I admitted. 'This is the first Dwemer ruin I've ever been to.' We rounded a corner, entering another, smaller chamber where tall bronze fencing lined the walls. 'But from what the twins said, and what was written in those books, they roll around in a metal sphere, and emerge from them if they sense an intruder. And they look like-'

Karliah's voice broke across me. 'Like that?'

My heart missed a beat as I caught sight of a large metal ball rolling towards us, steam gushing from the gaps between its plating. It lurched to a halt without warning, and suddenly seemed to unfold, a construction like a man's torso emerging from within the battered bronze sphere. Its head turned towards us with a grating screech. I drew my sword and hastily pulled up my face mask.

'Yes. Exactly like that,' I said.

The machine's ancient gears clashed and hissed as it began to career towards us. _Can it see and hear us, somehow? _I wondered. _Or is there some sort of magic that allows it to detect us? There is more to this thing than metal and machinery. _A pang of regret ran through me. How I wished there were still Dwemer alive today! They could have taught me so much. I would have had a million questions to ask them about their ingenious devices.

_This particular ingenious device currently happens to be trying to kill you, _I reminded myself angrily.

'Gallus!' I heard Karliah shout. 'Get round the other side!'

I hastened to obey, knowing that it would be easier for us both if we could trap it between the two of us. The Dunmer loosed two arrows at the Sphere, but neither had much effect. This creature - if it could even be called a creature - did not know the meaning of fear or pain. It could only be stopped if it were to be destroyed utterly.

'Aim for the weak spots!' I roared, ducking behind it and making a sweep at its head which only narrowly missed. 'Try and get it between the armour!' Even if I had never fought one of these things myself, I knew that the same tactics I used for any heavily-armoured opponent would be of use here.

The Sphere sent a metal bolt flying from the crossbow built into its arm, striking the wall just above Karliah's head, before lurching towards her. Determined to stop it from reaching her, I threw caution to the winds and lashed out with all my strength, driving my blade deep into the metal casing on its shoulder. It was a blow that would have slain any mortal enemy, but the Sphere seemed hardly injured at all. It whirled around with a shrill grinding of metal, and I had not time to block its arm as it cannoned into me. Knocked off my feet, I could not stop myself from going flying. The breath was punched out of me as I smacked into a wall. The world spun.

Desperately, I tried to rise, but every time I moved pain ripped through my body, and I felt as if I had no strength left. Through a greyish haze I saw my Guild sister's third arrow tearing a couple of pieces of machinery loose from the Sphere's arm. They hit the floor with a series of musical pings. The sound echoed and re-echoed inside my head. The Sphere raised its crossbow, readying another bolt.

Within a single instant, the mist that clouded my brain vanished as if it had been blown away by a fierce invisible wind. Somehow, my mind made the connection between what I was seeing and what it meant. The machine was about to fire again, and Karliah was its target. It was a close-range shot; an easy hit. If the bolt struck her, she could be killed.

The thought was enough to bring the strength returning to my body. Without hesitation, I grasped the metal railings, used them to pull myself upright, and threw myself forwards, my sword held sideways in front of me, shielding my chest. I felt the Sphere's crossbow bolt collide with the blade, the force of it almost knocking me clean off my feet again. The impact left a small notch on the blade of my weapon, but the shaft was knocked harmlessly aside. I saw the Sphere struggling to lift its damaged arm and knew that I would not get a better chance than this to put an end to the fight. I lunged in, driving my weapon through the plating on its torso, cutting through gears and sending bolts flying in all directions. Steam billowed from the gaping hole, and the Sphere burst apart, collapsing into a pile of metal sheets and machinery. One moment a fearsome and formidable guardian; the next, nothing but a few scraps of metal, no more dangerous than any other inanimate object/

'Thanks,' Karliah said shakily.

Ruefully, I ran a hand over my ribs. Now that the Sphere was defeated, I began to realise just how much they ached. I felt as if there wasn't an inch of me that wasn't bruised in some way. 'Don't mention it,' I replied, leaning against a wall for a moment to try to regain my balance.

'Are you hurt?'

'No, not a bit,' I lied hastily. I would be fine in due course. 'Just a little dazed, that's all.'

'Are you sure?' she pressed me, sounding suspicious. 'It looked like it threw you pretty hard.'

'This stuff's a lot tougher than it looks,' I assured her, giving my armour a quick pat. Without it, I knew, I might well have broken some of my ribs.

She seemed satisfied. 'Please, don't do that again. You nearly gave me a heart attack.'

Despite the situation, I found myself somewhat amused by her request. 'What, save your life?'

'I've got no problems with that,' she laughed. 'Just don't be so…' She gestured vaguely. 'So... _reckless_ next time. If you hadn't got your sword in the way in time, that shot could have killed you.'

'Yes,' I shrugged, 'but it didn't.'

'I know, but-'

I broke across her. 'Karliah, listen to me. I got you into this. And I'm getting you out, too.' Didn't she realise how important it was to me that she made it through? Didn't she realise how important _she _was to me? 'I'm not going to let anything happen to you. _Anything.'_

I did not trust myself to say another word. I knew that if I kept talking to her, I might well end up saying something that I would regret -something that it would be better for me to keep to myself. And so I turned and started down the next corridor - perhaps a little more quickly than was necessary.

'Let's keep moving, I called over my shoulder. 'We've got a long way to go.'

She stood still for a moment, and I could almost feel her gaze boring into my back. But finally the sound of her feet on the stone floor told me that she was following.

As the day dragged on, so we battled on. Deeper and deeper into the darkness.

With every second that I spent within that ruin, the more I slowly became convinced that we should never have come.

It wasn't that we were finding it difficult to combat the enemies that stood in our path. Quite on the contrary. The more Spheres, Falmer and Dwarven Spiders we encountered and were forced to defeat, the more experienced at battling them we became. Slowly we learned where a Dwemer automaton's weak points were, and exactly where you had to hit it to render it unable to fight back. There were ways, too, of sneaking directly in front of a Falmer without it having the slightest idea that you were there. Their blindness might have made their senses of hearing and smell more acute over time, but it did give us a small advantage. And since we were thieves, we were used to walking silently.

And yet, despite the relative ease with which we found ourselves dealing with our opponents, I started to hate Irkngthand more and more with every step we took further into its depths. It was simply so treacherous, so... unnatural. Everything about the place made my skin crawl. The Falmer, for a start. Once a proud and noble people. The ancestors of these ugly, savage creatures had once thought and dreamed and walked upon the surface of Nirn. They had been people, mortals just like us. And now they were reduced to beasts. The knowledge of what the Snow Elves had become was painful enough. But far worse was the thought of what _we _might some day become. Not just my own people, but all people. Maybe in hundreds of years' time, my own descendants might have sunk to the level of the Falmer - or lower.

And then there were the Dwemer machines. Fighting the first one had not been so bad. But every time I encountered one, I began to become more and more unnerved. These things were _metal. _They had no minds, no hearts, no thoughts. And yet in so many ways, they acted like sentient beings. Perhaps it was something to do with the soul gems that powered them; even now I cannot say what exactly it was about them that made me feel that way.

But by far the worst thing about it was Irkngthand itself. At first I had been in awe of the incredible stonework, marvelling at the chambers and towers, trying to imagine what it might have been like in its glory days. But slowly I lost any respect I had for the place. There were so many dangers, lurking in the shadows. And the thought of miles of earth lying between myself and the sky... it made me feel trapped. How could the Dwemer have ever survived living in this place?

But I knew that we had come too far to turn back now.

Despite the fact that I had started to loathe this place and everything about it, I could not help but feel a little impressed by the sight of the next chamber as we entered it. It was vast, possibly the biggest we had seen so far, lit only by the greenish light of the glowing mushrooms that lined the walls. Stone walkways wound upwards into the gloom, and I could make out the dome-shapes of the huts that the Falmer dwelt in in several places. I let out a hiss of frustration, knowing that this place was likely to be swarming with the repellent creatures.

'Trouble ahead,' Karliah murmured, gesturing towards the huts.

I nodded. 'Best tread softly.'

Spotting a pathway winding through the centre of the chamber, I cautiously led the way forward. It was almost certain that eventually we would be detected, but if there was even the slightest chance that we could escape without a fight, then I was taking it.

Soon we were nearing one of the Falmer dwellings. I hesitated, glancing inside. There was a Falmer hunched in a corner, but its back was to us. I nodded to Karliah, and we began moving again.

And then the creature turned its head.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my grip on my sword tightening. The Falmer's blind eyes gazed straight at us, and its ears twitched. For a single instant, I was mad enough to believe that we might have escaped its detection. But then it let out a furious screech, snatched up the sword that lay beside it, and began to lope in our direction with its teeth bared. Before I could even lift my weapon, Karliah's arrow had taken the creature through the throat. And yet already its fellows had been alerted. I could see them, their white faces suddenly appearing from every nook and cranny. Screeches of rage, accompanied by cat-like hisses and yowls, ran out through the air.

I glanced at Karliah, and I could see in her eyes that she knew that there was no avoiding this battle. We moved out into the open, standing back to back, ready to face them.

'Here they come,' I muttered, watching as they started pouring down the piles of rocks to meet us. I swept my eyes over them, trying to count how many there were. We were outnumbered at least ten to one. And poorly-armoured and nearly mindless though they were, that was still enough to put us in terrible danger.

They paused for a moment, hissing and snarling at us. Then a small group of them broke ranks and raced towards us, their swords and war axes made from Chaurus chitin raised high. I heard the death-heralding hiss of Karliah's bow, followed by a shriek and a dull thump. But I had no time to turn and see whether her foe was dead or merely injured, for the first few Falmer had reached me. My eyes narrowed, and as they came I roared out the battle cry that I had shouted so many times alongside not only Karliah, but Mercer, Dralsi and Blade. 'I bring death from the shadows!'

My first blow was wild but deadly, slaying one and wounding another's neck. The dead one slumped at my feet, and the injured one drew back with a howl. A third gave a twisted growl and leaped towards me, and I held my sword up in front of me on instinct. The Falmer, unable to stop itself, impaled itself on the blade and went limp instantly. I shook the carcass clear, sending it cannoning into two other Falmer and knocking them flat.

The remainder of that first wave scattered, but another pack was already scuttling towards us. Three times I heard the rush of air that signalled the firing of another arrow, and three times a Falmer cried out and fell before they even neared us. The first one to reach me went down with a gaping wound slashed open in its stomach, the next with its heart pierced right through.

'I'm running out of arrows!' Karliah cried suddenly.

I cursed mentally, knowing that all my efforts would never be enough without her taking down the enemy at long range. If we could simply come through this battle, there were plenty of Falmer archers whose arrows she could take. 'I'll try and keep them off!' I shouted. Perhaps if I could just keep them away from her, she could retrieve a few shafts. Forcing back my fear, I raced forwards, tearing into them as they approached. For a few seconds, all was a blur as I hacked and slashed and fought for my life. Then they were falling back in alarm, and one of them was clambering on top of a boulder, yowling loudly enough to fill the entire cavern.

I saw Karliah staring at it. 'Didn't you say something a minute ago about knowing the Falmer language? What's he saying?'

I swallowed, knowing that though the grunts and squeals that the Falmer spoke with nowadays were indeed a language, they bore little resemblance to the elegant tongue in which they had once communicated. Still, when I concentrated hard, I could make out certain sounds that were not all that different from modern elven tongues. 'I can read and write it,' I called, adding more quietly, 'thanks to a certain family of mine. But I'm next to useless at understanding it.'

The Falmer's screeches grew louder, and I recognised a few more of the outlandish sounds.

'Um… kill, tear, feast, blood…' I shook my head. 'I can't make head or tail of most of it, but I think the general idea is pretty obvious.'

The Falmer threw back its head and punched the air with its axe, howling loud enough to wake the dead. It was clearly a signal, for its remaining fellows instantly began dashing towards us with a clatter of claws.

Karliah readied another arrow. 'Don't tell me. That meant, 'attack.''

She fired, and the Falmer leader wailed as it fell from the rock, an arrow through its neck. Another one was taken out in mid-air as it jumped towards me. I cut down another before a sudden burst of light caught my eye. One of the creatures was holding a staff, and frost magic was streaming from the end. I ducked under the icy jet, lunged in, and drove my blade into the mage's chest. Pain like fire suddenly spread through my shoulder, and I turned to see an arrow protruding from my armour. It had not penetrated my flesh deeply, and I was able to tug it out, though the action made the agony of the wound a thousand times worse.

As I tossed the bloodstained shaft aside, I heard a screech from behind me, and a dead Falmer fell from a collapsed tower. One of Karliah's final arrows had struck it in the eye. I hadn't seen it approaching from behind. If my Guild sister hadn't, I might well have been dead. There was no time to thank her, though. There were few Falmer remaining now, most of them either dead or fled, but there were still enough to pose a threat.

I found myself fighting three at once. They circled and ducked around me, afraid to come too close, and yet determined to finish me. I managed to block their blows, but I could not land a strike of my own. If I couldn't find a break in their defences, they would be able to bring me down. I backed against a wall of rock, in an attempt to stop them from attacking from behind. One of them hissed and leaped for me; I jumped aside. It crashed into the cliff, sending a shower of loose rocks down, trapping one of its comrades instantly. I dispatched the third with a blow to the neck, and turned to face the last one. It clambered on top of the rock pile, glaring at me for a moment, then leaped. Again, I lifted my blade, and it threw itself thoughtlessly onto the end.

But even as I allowed myself a satisfied smile, I heard Karliah cry my name.

I whirled around, throwing the dead Falmer from my sword as I did so, and pure terror crashed over me. The Dunmer was on the ground, writhing under the weight of a final Falmer, the last of them all. He was pinning her down, and its sword was raised, ready to strike the final blow.

Mindless fear gripped me as I rushed towards the battling pair. Karliah was a strong warrior, but the Falmer's grip was too tight for her to break free. If she were to die now, in the darkness of this nightmare place, I would never forgive myself. Never.

_Gods, please, not her!_

As I neared them, I saw the Dark Elf wrench one arm free. Her hand gripped her dagger, and now she thrust it forwards. The Falmer, blind as it was, could not see the blow coming. Her blade pierced his body, sending blood trickling down onto her gauntlets. A gurgling moan escaped the creature, and I felt relief explode within me. Karliah was safe.

But I allowed myself to be relieved too soon.

For even as the life died from those cruel, unseeing eyes, I saw it lift its sword one last time.

Through a sea of horror and disbelief, I saw it bring down the weapon. I saw it break through her armour.

I heard her agonised cry split the air.

My blood turned to ice in my veins as I rushed forwards, dropping to my knees by her side. She lay gasping, her eyes wide with fear and anguish. The Falmer lay still, the last of its strength, and its life, used to strike that final blow. I wrenched its corpse aside, grasping my Guild sister's shoulders, my heart hammering so furiously that it almost hurt. This could not be happening, not to her, not after I had sworn to protect her. Anyone but her!

'Karliah!' I shouted desperately. '_Karliah!'_

For a single heartbeat, our my gaze met hers.

Then her eyes closed and her body went limp in my arms.

* * *

**Cliffhangers. Don't you just love 'em? (Even though some of you already know what's going to happen…)**

**Sorry if this chapter felt a little rushed to read... I'm going away tomorrow for about a week, and I was determined to get this done first. I don't think I'll be able to write while I'm away, so the next update may be a little delayed. Sorry. :/**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! **


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